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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100226">Tumblr Posts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yikes_Writes/pseuds/Yikes_Writes'>Yikes_Writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yikes on Tumblr [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(kinda), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Background Tommy H, Basically everything is soft, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Billy Hargrove is His Own Warning, Billy and Steve being mentors to Will is my weakness, Billy bonding with Steve's children, Billy is A Trash Monster, Billy is just in love with his bf and will do literlly anything for him at all times, Billy's Life Guard Shorts, Billy's thighs, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Boys Go To a Diner and Bond, California, Catholic Billy Hargrove, Child Abuse, Dad Hopper, Drag Queen Steve, Drunk Steve Harrington, Dumb boys fliritng in public, Dyslexic Steve Harrington, Fem!Harringrove, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hopper is trying his best, I'm sorry for that one, I'm tagging it again because it shows up A LOT, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecure Steve Harrington, It's Fairly Vague, Jewish Steve Harrington, Little Detail About What Happens, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Steve Harrington, Soft Billy Hargrove, Soft Steve Harrington, Soulmates, Steve Harrington's Scoops Ahoy Uniform, Steve Yearning Anonymously on Twitter, Steve bonding with Billy's mom at his funeral, Steve calls Billy 'Daddy' as a joke, Steve is Bad at Surfing, Steve is obsessed with them, Stevie doesn't think she's pretty but billie thinks shes gorgeous, Surfing, These boys are SOFT and GAY, They Make Out in the Showers Because Of Course They Do, Underage Drinking, and we love him for it, billie hargrove - Freeform, bless, but Steve loves him, but he's also oblivious to billy and steve fucking in his house, but it is mentioned, just two wlw who think the other is the pinnalce of beauty and love each other and are soft, me too steve, soft holiday boys, stevie harrington - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:22:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yikes_Writes/pseuds/Yikes_Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I have decided to post all of my Harringrove drabbles, ficlets, and writings from Tumblr over here as well. All posts are Harringrove or Harringrove implied.<br/>Tags will be updated as I update the chapters!<br/>Only content warnings are for language and mentions of sexual scenarios.<br/>They are all stand-alone pieces, but some may be continued!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yikes on Tumblr [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>482</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sex Ed with Billy and Steve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a little thing I wrote that had been in my brain for a good long while. Warnings for language, and very minor sexual content (things are mentioned but nothing is actually written in detail).<br/>You can find me on Tumblr</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Teenage Will Byers nervously asking Steve and Billy about what it’s like having sex with another guy.</p><p>He’s just had sex ed at school and now knows more than he ever wanted about sex between a man and a woman and he feels a bit sick about it if he’s being honest.</p><p>That being said, he’s a little bit sheltered and has NO idea what two men would do with one another.</p><p>Steve can tell Something’s Up from a mile away when it comes to his kids and asks Will what’s going on and gently reminds him he and Billy are there for him. Will, nervous and blushing, just blurts it all out.</p><p>Billy goes into EXTREME detail of everything he can think of, including anecdotes and tales from his and Steve’s own romps. Partially because he wants Will to be prepared and have the knowledge that Billy had to earn by experience, helping him to avoid situations Billy got in that Were Bad, making sure he understands that HIV/AIDs are real and dangerous threats, that communication and clear consent is KEY between partners, and partially because Steve keeps blushing and sputtering whenever Billy gets a little too informative about the Exact shade of red his ass gets after a good spanking.</p><p>Steve is LOSING HIS MIND because Will! Is! A! Child! He should NOT be even THINKING about having sex AT ALL for the next 45 Years AT LEAST (nvm that will is older than they both were when they first had sex) and Billy will NOT stop over sharing??? He was on board for the talk about consent and bodily autonomy until Billy starting spiraling into negotiation of kinks and Steve, being forced to come to terms with his children growing up (seriously weren’t they all just like 12 yesterday???) just finally leaves the room, takin the L so hard and going on a hunt for a drink of something strong enough to wash away the experience of having The Talk with one of his children while his stupid gross bf told said kid more than he should ever know about Steve.</p><p>Will is Mortified and did NOT want to know a large majority of everything he just learned about Steve, but a little part of himself is so happy that he gets to have this, he gets to ask these questions in a safe place where he won’t be judged, where he gets all the info he will EVER need without once being told he’s Wrong or Bad or Gross and if he smiles to himself thinking about all that, well, Billy is too busy waxing poetic about the Joys of the Prostate to notice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dustin and Billy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Billy bonds with Dustin over shared insecurities.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dustin doesn’t really know <em>how</em> or <em>when</em> Billy became part of the party,, but one day he just Was and now Dustin guesses it isn’t the worst thing in the world, when Billy may just have the advice he needs.</p><p>He finds him smoking out on the porch, and sits down next to him and says he needs advice. Advice about girls. Billy laughs for a second, inhales and admits he may not be the best person for That Job, but can see the kid needs some help so he grits his teeth and says, sure why the fuck not.</p><p>Dustin gets this Look, and asks Billy, why Max would choose Lucas over him. He followed all of Steve’s advice and he doesn’t Get It. I mean what is so <em>wrong with him</em> that he keeps getting rejected and the kids in his class keep fucking <em>PICKING ON HIM AND</em>-</p><p>Billy has no fucking idea what to do so he just kinda, hugs the kid. He tells him there is NOTHING <em>wrong</em> with him. And honestly, don’t follow Steve’s girl advice that’s how to bag a chick for like <em>a night</em> not for like <em>a relationship</em> and besides, when he said all that shit he was hurting and for how much he’s become better, nicer, more caring, he still has that beautiful streak of <em>douchebag</em> that Billy<b> is just OBSESSED with </b>whenever he sees it and- whatever that’s not the point.</p><p>The point IS,, he sighs. He can’t BELIEVE this kid is going to get a look behind <em>this</em> fucking curtain. He tells Dustin that he gets it, he REALLY does. Before puberty, Billy was a big kid. He got picked on, a lot. Like, A LOT. He had all this hair and he didn’t know what to do with it and he was <em>always reading</em>, and not cool shit, he was reading like, Lord of the Rings, and The Hobbit, and like, X-Men and shit. It wasn’t until he lost his baby weight when puberty hit and he figured out how to do his hair (Thank you, Dee Snider, for the Curlspiration) and all of a sudden, people were nice? to? him? The girls started fawning over him and the boys stopped picking on him so he, he leaned into it.</p><p>He worked out, joined sports, lost weight, learned how to wink properly, how to lick his lips all slow like, how to get close to girls and flex <em>just right</em> to get what he needs. He hid his brains and his books under layers of thick muscle, manicured facial hair, and wailing fists. He learned that being beautiful gets you FAR in life and that’s, that’s okay but kid-</p><p>He feels like a piece of fucking meat.</p><p>No one cares about <em>him</em>. Girls melt when he looks at them, and sure, he can get them into a diner booth or a movie theatre seat or a <em>bed</em> REAL easy, but nobody gives a shit about what he wants, what he likes, (the fact that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about Girls). He uses them (for fun, for image, for information (Thanks Mrs. Wheeler-<em>Karen</em>)) but they use him right back (for fun, for image, to feel <em>something</em> (seriously Karen get a fucking life and quit flirting with a CHILD)).</p><p>And besides, he had to change EVERYTHING about himself to get to where he is now, and he’s not that fucking happy honestly. He hides everything about himself. From his stash of books and comics, to his god damn sexuality, he <em>feels like a fraud</em>.</p><p>Maybe he shouldn’t have word vomited all that to this kid though, this kid who is looking at him with TOO MANY emotions to decipher and something like <em>trust</em>?</p><p>The fuck?</p><p>But Billy, Billy has a point, and by God, he’s gonna reach it. So he takes another drag and puts out his cigarette and tells the kid, yeah it's cheesy as fuck, but don’t. change. One day you’re not going to recognize yourself and you’re going to wish you were a chubby little nerd with too much hair, not enough brain-to-mouth filter and realize that you don’t even <em>like </em>who you are. And it’s all for nothing because one day, you’ll meet someone, someone who sees right through all the <em>bullshit</em> and loves you for the chubby little nerd with too much hair, not enough brain-to-mouth filter you once were, still are.</p><p>So hang in there kid, he says to him. The kids are gonna suck for a bit, the girls are gonna suck for a bit, but one day, you’ll meet the right person. And if you’re very lucky, you won’t have beaten them up before you even got a chance to tell them that you love them. If you’re lucky, you won’t have had to put your ass on the line to earn their trust. If you’re lucky, they’ll have a heart too big for their own good and forgive you anyway.</p><p>Dustin and Billy head back inside, both feeling a little less like they’re carrying too much weight on their shoulders, and in his brain, Dustin forgives Max for not picking him. He knows he didn’t go about it in the right way. And that’s okay. He’ll grow up, he’ll figure himself out, and maybe he’ll meet someone that loves him like Steve and Billy love one another.</p><p>And of course Steve hears everything. And of course Steve cries.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Prompt Fill: Detention Flirting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve couldn’t fucking believe it. He was sitting in goddamn detention all because Tommy H. just <em>had</em> to get all cock-sure during gym and egg him on and hurl insults at him like a fucking <em>child</em> and Billy fucking Hargrove came out of NOWHERE to punch the shit outta Tommy. They started graplin’ around until Steve and FOUR other team members had to physically separate them while Coach yelled and made Steve and Billy run about <em>fifty fucking laps</em> as he took Tommy to the nurse and-</p><p>Well, it’s all Tommy’s fault anyway.</p><p>They had both been given after-school goddamn detention for the whole MONTH. Needless to say, Steve was fucking seething. In between getting brutally fucking dumped, getting his <em>shit wrecked</em> by Hargrove, ending up in those <b>tunnels</b>, and all this on top of fighting the demogorgon and Barb’s <em>death</em> in his POOL, and the fact that he doesn’t fucking sleep anymore, what with the demodog nightmares and the Billy Hargrove <em>sex dreams</em>, Steve is hanging on by one, extremely thin, extremely delicate thread and Tommy jeering at him and calling him queer, and he just,,</p><p>he’s about to lose it.</p><p>They had been left in the classroom by themselves with a firm explanation not to “start anything.” Steve plonked himself in the first chair he saw, thumped his head down on his desk and tried to get his breathing regulated. He just needed to get through the next hour without climbing Hargrove like a tree or throwing himself straight out the fucking window.</p><p>Hargrove had thrown himself into the seat <em>right behind Steve</em>, put his feet up, pulled a beat-up paperback out of his back and started reading. Steve could hear the pages turning intermittently. About ten minutes in, he began to feel the heat of Hargrove staring. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, sitting up and turning around.</p><p>“<b>You know it’s rude to stare, right?</b>”</p><p>Billy was looking at him, studying Steve like he was something interesting, and not for the first time, Steve felt a shock through his gut just at the sight of Billy considering him.</p><p>“That’s rich. Harrington, <em>you know</em>, I’ve seen you starin’ right back at me. I know you like watchin’ me on the court.” The beginnings of a smirk we tugging at the side of his lips. FUCK he’s ridiculously hot. Steve can say that. It’s not gay. It’s fine. Steve’s fine.</p><p>Steve was gobsmacked. This asshole is really gonna sit here and call him out like this. “That’s ‘cause you’re always doing that <em>thing</em> you do, rubbin’ all up on me, and stickin’ your tongue out and-”</p><p>Billy let his feet clunk down onto the floor. “Pray tell, sweet thing; how long you been noticin’ everything I do? I thought staring was <em>so rude</em>.” He was leaning over the desk and into Steve’s space, liking his teeth while he smiled at Steve like he wanted to fucking DEVOUR him. Steve could get on board with that.</p><p>“I mean, it’s kinda hard NOT TO notice when you get all up in my face, and, and the fucking, nicknames,” Steve could feel that delicate little thread tensing and tensing, “and you’re just always THERE man every time I fucking turn around you’re just <em>THERE</em>, just <em>watching </em>me, and you’re. just. so. HOT I mean FUCK-” Steve didn’t even register standing up until Billy pressed up against him, toe to toe, chest to that gorgeous, toned chest, effectively cutting his rambling.</p><p>“Well God baby, how can I not watch you,” he threaded one hand into Steve’s hair, the other dragging up his thigh to rest on his hip. Steve felt his breath get stuck in his chest and his eyes fluttered closed for a second, the feeling of Billy’s fingers against his scalp something he’s felt in his <em>spicier</em> dreams. “You’re too gorgeous for your own fucking good.” Billy was staring down at his mouth, biting his own bottom lip with one sharp canine.</p><p>“You know, Billy,” Steve could feel his own smirk forming as he leaned further into Billy’s space. “<em>It’s rude to stare</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Prompt Fill: Babysitting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy doesn’t know how he keeps ending up in these positions. Actually, he knows exactly how. All Steve fucking Harrington needs to do is add that little pouty whine into his voice and <em>promise I’ll make it up to you please, Bill I really need your help just grab El and bring her home, Robin asked me to cover her next shift she said it was an emergency, I need you, Bill please </em>and Billy is tripping over himself to do whatever it is he wants.</p><p>Which was apparently babysitting? He picked up El from the Wheeler’s stupid giant house, deftly avoiding Karen as he went, and drove her to that creepy-turned-admittedly-cozy cabin in the woods place she and Hop call home, only to find Hop in full uniform clambering into his old truck throwing an “it’s an emergency, kid. Just feed her some dinner and make sure she goes to bed” over his shoulder at Billy.</p><p>El pulled him into the house and they spent the first hour or so sitting in an odd silence on either end of the small couch. She was steadily working her way through a worn copy of <em>Charlotte’s Web</em> on which Billy could practically SMELL Nancy Wheeler, asking Billy definitions for unfamiliar words every now and again.</p><p>It was his idea to bake cookies. He used to love following his mom around the kitchen, clinging to her skirt as she explained what she was doing in her sweet voice, <em>always use coarse Kosher salt it has better flavor than anything else,</em> and <em>add an extra egg than the recipe calls for, I think eggs have gotten smaller</em>. He relayed this information to El as he went, her clinging to his every word, looking at him with wide, trusting eyes.</p><p>He was just pulling the first batch of sweet golden cookies from the oven when Steve busted into the cabin like the fucking Kool-aid Man, the door bouncing off the wall with the sheer force used. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, big eyes huge, hair disheveled, and not in that artful way he’s been super into right now (not that Billy’s complaining, he has sex hair like 100% of the time now, it’s hot), and he’s still wearing that stupid, sexy, little sailor suit</p><p>“Bill, I’m so fucking sorry. I saw Hop and he said you were <em>babysitting</em> he told me El just needed a <em>ride</em>, I’m so sorry man.” He thumped over to Billy and got all up in his space.</p><p>“Nah, baby. It’s okay. El and I were having a pretty good time getting these all made.” Steve was looking at him with the sweetest, softest eyes ever and Billy could feel the heat creeping up his neck.</p><p>“Wait, you two baked? Can I have one?” He reached to choose a cookie from the hot tray, which Billy shifted out of his reach, only to be met with Steve’s famous pout.</p><p>“Actually, <b>these weren’t meant for you</b>. Cookies are for people who help and don’t lie to their boyfriends and leave them stranded with terrible children.” He gave El one of the steaming cookies with a wink. She smiled at them. Steve rolled his eyes.</p><p>“I <em>said </em>I was <em>sorry</em>. C’mon Bills. Forgive me? <em>Pretty please</em>.” He REALLY knows what he’s doing. He batted his eyes at Billy, letting his bottom lip pout out. Billy wanted to bite it. He rolled his eyes in turn.</p><p>“<em>Jesus fuck-</em>FINE. Here. You can eat one now,” He leaned closer to purr right into Steve’s ear, putting a cookie straight into that mouth of his. “But later, <em>I</em> get to eat <em>you</em>.” He grinned at the flushed look on Steve’s face and turned around, depositing the cookies on the counter.</p><p>“Alright El and I were gonna watch a movie, you hangin’ with us, Mac n’ Steve?” Steve appeared to shake himself out of his (probably horny) trance and smiled at the nickname.</p><p>When Hop came home, he opened the cabin door to El, fast asleep on a sleeping Steve, curled up on a very awake, and minorly disgruntled Billy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Steve and El</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>El never learned to read. </p><p>Growing up in a lab will do that to you. She was taught a rudimentary vocabulary, only repeating what was said to her often enough for her to glean <em>some kind</em> of meaning. She was usually just talked AT, never expected to give a reply, so she usually just,, didn’t. </p><p>In the early days of living with Hop, he would come home almost everyday with something new for her, toys, crafts, stickers, and of course, books. He would bring new words and scribble them on her “Word of the Day” sheet tacked up on the kitchen wall. He would read to her almost every night. She liked his voice, he was good at telling the stories, and became savvy enough in navigating her facial expressions to know when he needed to offer definitions of words. </p><p>Every day he asked her if she read ahead in their story. She always told him <em>no, I like it when you read</em>, until it hit him. He was in the middle of a sentence, a paragraph, a page when he stopped at looked at her with that appraising eye she was always wary of.</p><p>“El, can you read?” She told him no, she never learned. </p><p>The next day there was a copy of <em>A Very Hungry Caterpillar</em> on the kitchen table. </p><p>After dinner became their reading time. Hop wrote out an alphabet for her, gently helping her sound out letters and words until she was following along with the simple sentences in her picture books. </p><p>The first time Steve babysat El, she quietly worked through her routine. She was used to taking care of herself, but since Hop told everyone he had been looking after her, Steve started Hovering About, saying things like <em>are you sure she isn’t lonely, in that house by herself al the time?</em> and <em>I can just come and hang out, keep her company.</em> So when Hop got called in for an emergency he gave Steve a call who showed up within twenty minutes with a stack of board games. He made her dinner, and even let her have a couple of Eggos for dessert. She worked through her routine, Steve smiling proudly at her when she read through <em>Where the Wild Things Are</em> without any stumbles. </p><p>The trouble came when it was time for bed. She asked him to continue the book Hop has been reading to her. He flushed and stuttered out some excuse not to, saying he doesn’t want to encroach on this thing she has with him, something sacred between pseudo-father and pseudo daughter. </p><p>He deflected every subsequent time she requested. So, in the same to-the-point way of Hop, she asked. </p><p>“Steve, can you read?”</p><p>He was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the night and said he was too busy each time Hop called him for babysitting duty. </p><p>When he finally showed back up at the cabin, it was with an apology, a twelve-pack for Hop, and a copy of <em>The Hundred and One Dalmations</em>.</p><p>They made dinner together, and El hummed while she worked through her routine, reviewing her alphabet and reading another chapter in <em>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</em>. Steve had been quiet all night, and she was silently willing him to act like himself, loud and sweet and silly and bright. A quiet Steve is a sad Steve, Dustin said so. And El didn’t know what to do.</p><p>She looked up from her novel to see him staring right at her. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, obviously wanting to say something, but not knowing how to force it out. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.</p><p>“El, I can’t,, read.” She didn’t understand. He’s told her stories of his childhood, little anecdotes of Tommy H. and Carol as children. She knew he didn’t grow up in a lab. Hell, she even knew he could read, he’d done homework sitting at the kitchen table with her. She guessed he didn’t mean it literally (that was the word of the day six days ago). He looked at her.</p><p>“I mean, I CAN read, in theory anyway. I learned to read and write and everything, but its just-it’s hard for me. Whenever I try the letters shift around, they switch places sometimes and I can’t figure out what they’re trying to say. It’s called dyslexia, at least I think so. Some of my teachers have wanted to test me for it but my dad never let them. He always told them, I-I mean he would say it’s embarrassing for him that his son’s such a fu-sorry <em>fricking</em>-idiot. I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to know. I’m embarrassed too. I jus-I guess I just didn’t want you to know I’m an idiot too.”</p><p>“You are not an idiot.” He scoffed. “If you are one, then so am I. Reading is hard for me too.” He looked absolutely scandalized she would speak so negatively of herself, but she didn’t let him get a word in. “The letters move. It is not your fault reading is hard for you. Hop told me different people are different kinds of smart. He said ‘booksmart’ good at school and reading and math and things, ‘streetsmart’ good at life and world things, ‘peoplesmart’ good at caring and people and friends and being kind. That is like you. You always know when I feel upset, or when Dustin needs a hug, or when Will needs to leave someplace, or when Billy needs to take a walk. You are good at taking care of us, you are good at being kind and loving us. Peoplesmart.”</p><p>He nearly bowled over the fucking table in his effort to wrap her up in a hug. </p><p>“<em>Thank you</em>, El I-<em>fuck</em>- I don’t think you know how much that means to me.” He pulled back, trying to blink the shine of tears out of his eyes. “I reall-God <em>El</em>, I, PEOPLESMART. I can do that. I can, I can <em>be that</em>.” He smiled at her, a real genuine, bright Steve Smile. </p><p>Maybe she can be peoplesmart, too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Billy's Mom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-season 3 angst with a happy ending.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy Hargrove’s funeral was small.</p><p>Steve didn’t quite know what he expected. Billy was popular in school, but basically just for being A Huge Douchebag. He guesses he figured everyone would shove down any animosity they had towards the guy and make an appearance at his fucking funeral, but here he was. Standing in the cemetery, watching his boyfriend’s fucking<em> casket</em> being lowered into the <em>fucking ground</em> and he wasn’t even allowed to grieve like he wanted. He wasn’t allowed to grieve like a lover, standing here with Max on one side, her own mother clutching to her hand like a lifeline. </p><p>Neil Hargrove was on Susan’s other side, looking as stoic as ever. He gave a eulogy Steve would define as Utter Bullshit at the service. Some story about teaching Billy to play baseball when he was a kid, something Steve KNOWS Billy fucking hated. </p><p>Apart from the Hargrove-Mayfield family and Steve, the Wheeler family made an appearance, Karen giving Steve WAY too long a hug, and the Byers rolled in, El in tow. Will, being one of the only people who knew the true nature of Billy and Steve’s relationship, took Steve’s hand during the service, hasn’t yet let go. Only squeezed harder as the casket went <em>downdowndown</em>. Max specifically told Lucas not to come, knew Neil would lose his shit if he saw them together. She wanted Billy’s funeral to be nice, not a fucking fight, so there they were. Thirteen people. Apparently the only thirteen people in this whole fucking town who truly gave a shit about Billy Hargrove.</p><p>Steve almost missed the fourteenth person. He didn’t see her sitting in the back, keeping her gentle tears to herself. It wasn’t until after, when the sun had begun to set and the grave was covered over with earth did she make herself known to him. </p><p>Steve was sitting at the headstone. He had memorized the few lines on it some hours ago, leaned against it as he cried, screamed at it, hit it, begged for this to be some fucked up dream, but nothing happened. The grave was quiet when the woman lowered herself to sit next to him.</p><p>“Were you two friends?” He finally considered her, taking in her blonde curls, her soft blue eyes. Familiar eyes that made his own burn.</p><p>“You’re his mom.” He didn’t even realize he hadn’t answered her question, so focused on those eyes, <em>blueblueblue</em>. Billy had shown him pictures of her, he so rarely opened up about his mother, but he had told Steve enough. Enough for Steve to know who she is, how she left Billy with Neil when he was a <em>child</em>. He had decided a long time ago that didn’t fucking like her.</p><p>“Yes, I am his mom, or I was. Haven’t been a very good one, I’m sorry to say.” At least she knew enough of what she’d done to look bashful, somewhat embarrassed. </p><p>“No, I’d say you haven’t been.”</p><p>“I deserve that. I know I do. I should have-should have <em>been there</em>. I was going to come back I WAS, but then, Neil told, he <em>threatened me</em> if I had, and that’s no excuse <em>I know it isn’t </em>but, I was just,, I was just so scared. “</p><p>Steve didn’t know how to feel. He was absolutely <em>fucking livid</em> on Billy’s behalf. Billy who had <em>sobbed</em> about his mother, asked what was so unlovable about him that his <em>own mother</em> didn’t give a fuck about him. But now here she was, too late to make amends, too late to make anything better, but with tears streaming down her face, and regret tensing up her body. </p><p>“He was scared too. He was always so <em>fucking scared</em>. And you certainly didn’t help that. He <em>loved you</em>. He loved you so fucking much it DESTROYED him that you left.”</p><p>“I know that, I know that what I did was bad, and it, it <em>fucked </em>him up I get that, I really do. And I know I don’t deserve to know, but if you two were friends, maybe you could-maybe you could tell me about him.” Steve sighed. He agreed, he didn’t think she deserved to know about the kind of man her son had grown into, the kind of man that loved despite his pain, was kind through his beatings. But here she was, and Billy would have given ANYTHING for her to come back, for her to know him.</p><p>“Yeah I can, I can do that. I mean, what do you want to know?”</p><p>“Were you two close? I want to know, anything you can tell me. Anything. He was such a sweet boy, always so delicate and kind, was he still like that?”</p><p>Steve forced a watery laugh. “No, he was an asshole, a total douchebag. Neil tried to beat all the kindness outta him. But he could be sweet. He could be REALLY sweet. If he didn’t think anyone was there to see it. There was-” he laughed at his memory, turning more towards her. “So there was this one day, and I was just <em>going through it</em>, you know, just had the shit kicked outta me by the day, and I show up home, ready to just be angry and sad all night, fuck around and get drunk, typical wallowing stuff, and I walk in, and this bastard had BROKEN INTO MY HOUSE and made me pancakes. And I just stood there, and he, he smiled at me, like one of those <em>real</em> ones he never showed anyone” Steve had begun openly sobbing by this point, “anyone but <em>me</em> and, I asked him why, he did All That, and he just said, ‘I know you, Pretty Boy. I know when you need a little extra love.’ And the fucking pancakes, they had, goddamn, <em>blueberries</em> and <em>bananas</em> he had SLICED UP for me, and that’s Billy, that’s what he would do, just to make me feel <em>okay</em> and, <em>I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get through this without him here to make it okay</em>.” She scooped him into her arms and held him close to her. She was humming softly as she rocked him back and forth. He only cried harder when he recognized the song, something Billy would hum when Steve woke up screaming in the night. </p><p>“I always knew about him, about how he loved, <em>who</em> he loved. Call it Mother’s Intuition, I always knew.” She shifted Steve’s face to look into hers, tears also running down her face, dripping off her chin. “I am so happy he chose you to love, baby. And I’m so happy you chose him right back.” </p><p>They clutched at one another for a long time. Steve still wasn’t exactly her biggest fan, but he wanted to share what he has left of Billy, those golden-soaked moments that were just between the two of them, so he did. They sat by that cold stone grave all night long, Steve talking until he went hoarse about Billy, The Real Billy, and his mother just listened, her heart breaking and mending over and over and over again at the thought of never truly getting to know this boy, this boy who protected the people he loved, who was smart, and sweet, and kind, and <em>loved</em>. </p><p>And somewhere, deep in the Upside Down, Billy Hargrove tore his way through town, determined to make his way RIGHT BACK into the arms of the prettiest boy in Hawkins, Indiana.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Prompt Fill: First Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was ridiculously nervous.</p><p>At this point, he’s changed his outfit four times (only to go back to the first one). He keeps fucking with his hair, OF COURSE, it’s deciding to rebel against him Right Now of all fucking times and now it’s too late to shower and fix it. Billy’s supposed to be here to pick him up in less than twenty minutes for their first fucking date.</p><p>Steve’s probably gonna lose his shit pretty soon.</p><p>So he here is, in front of the full-body mirror on the front of his mom’s closet, just, takin’ it all in. After making amends with Billy, they had grown to be very close friends for the past few months, close enough that with a few <em>substances</em> in their systems one night, they opened up to one another about their sexualities, leading to a conversation about their mutual attraction, leading to a long and <em>aggressive</em> make-out session Billy ended with a whisper of <em>c’mon Pretty Boy, lemme take you out this weekend, let’s go on a date it’ll be totally lame, c’mon.</em></p><p>Cut to this weekend, Steve staring at himself in the mirror overthinking Every,, Single,, Thing..</p><p>The roar of the Camaro brought him out of his little self-doubt reverie and he practically threw himself out the front door and into the passenger side, getting <em>right up</em> into Billy’s space to shove his tongue <em>right down</em> his throat. </p><p>“Jesus, Bambi,” Billy said as soon as Steve was in his own seat. “Where’s the fucking fire? I was gonna come ring the doorbell, open the car door for you, all that good first date shit.”</p><p>Billy looked <em>good</em>. Well, he always looks good, but he was wearing that fucking red shirt, with his tiddies all out, and his hair all big, and Steve could smell the cologne Billy probably but on his <em>dick</em> from where he was sitting. It was making him light-headed. <br/>“Sorry, I was just excited.” Steve knew he was pouting. He <em>also </em>knew exactly what it does to Billy, so, it’s not like it’s an ACCIDENT. “And nervous I guess.” He shrugged. “Been a minute since I’ve been on a date. Been a minute since I’ve been on a date I was <em>excited</em> about.” He could feel his face growing hot.</p><p>“Aww, you sweet on me Stevie?” Billy was smiling one of those Soft smiles, despite his teasing words.</p><p>“I mean, you already know that. I changed my fucking outfit like, a million times. Wanted to look good for you.”</p><p>“Well actually, I wanted to discuss that with you. <b>I’m taking the fact that you’re not naked very personally</b>.” Billy winked at Steve, running his tongue along his bottom lip in that very suggestive, very <em>sexy</em> way he always did while his right hand trailed up Steve’s inner thigh.</p><p>“<b>We’re in public!</b>” He gestured to the perfectly manicured lawns of the surrounding houses and shooed Billy’s hand away from where it was steadily creeping. Steve wasn’t actually as scandalized as he was feigning. He knows Billy, knows what kinda vulgar he’s bringing to the table, always brought to the table. And Steve’s no blushing virgin, he’s been around the block a few times, especially in his “King Steve” days.</p><p>“Yeah, but ain’t your bedroom just right in there? I mean, I don’t mind giving the good people of Locha Nora a little show.” Billy leaned in closer, Steve closing in as well.</p><p>“Bedroom might be a little better, just up the stairs and to the left, right where it’s always been.” Billy planted one on him and got out of the car, swaggering right on into Steve’s house, throwing open the double doors like a dramatic bitch.</p><p>Steve flew out of the car to follow Billy upstairs, and his meticulously chosen outfit ended up right there on the bedroom floor.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Prompt Fill: Miscommunication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little bit of flangst, Steve is insecure, Billy is bad at communication, you know how it goes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy and Steve have been fucking for months. </p><p>Ever since Dustin dragged Steve into the Upside Down Shit (part 2) and Steve, in turn, dragged Billy, they began leaning on one another. At first, emotionally. They would get drunk, or high, or some combination of the two, and they would get, <em>vulnerable</em>.</p><p>Steve opened up first, whispering to a drunk Billy about Barb, and how he can’t even stomach looking at his own swimming pool, his cold distant mother, and his overbearing father. Billy traded Steve’s secrets for his own, a mother that left him with a hateful father. He skirted around the topic of his abuse with less grace than he would have liked, but Steve let him pretend he was being subtle about it.</p><p>At some point, they started passing out in Steve’s bed together. Then they started making out in Steve’s bed together. Steve guesses Full-On Fucking was the natural progression of things, but then he did the thing he always does, which is decidedly <em>not</em> the natural progression of things.</p><p>Steve got attached. He fell for Billy. Hard. He always knew he was desperate for love, not getting it from your parents kinda does that to you. But he didn’t ever think he would end up falling for the guy that’s been taking him straight to Pound Town every other night.</p><p>The next time they were living out their ritual of spilling their guts and boning it out, Something in Steve’s stupid, empty, drunk brain told him to tell Billy how he felt. So he did. So Billy left. So Steve cried.</p><p>That was five weeks ago. Not that he’s counting. (He’s totally counting).</p><p>He was sad and sleepy and horny when Billy called him at two-thirty seven in the morning on a random Tuesday. Sad and sleepy and horny enough to invite Billy over without question the second he heard him crackle <em>I just needta see you, Bambi. I wanna talk like we used to. I jus-I miss you, Stevie</em> over the phone line. He downed about half a bottle of stolen scotch on his way to unlock the front door. He wandered up the stairs to his bedroom to get naked and wait for Billy.</p><p>He was stretched out on the bed, dosing off when Billy found him. He took in his naked body and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Hey, man. Uuh, can I ask why you’re naked?”</p><p>Steve’s brain was moving too slow to decipher the question. He giggled at the look on Billy’s face and rolled over, arching his back a little and throwing Billy what he hoped was a sultry look over his shoulder.</p><p>“You said you ‘wanna talk like we used to’. Figured I would move things along.”</p><p>“Steve, I really do wanna talk.” Steve rolled back over, spreading his legs when he saw Billy’s eyes zero in between them. “<em>Fuck</em>, can you like, cover-up or something I can’t fucking <em>focus</em> when you’re laying there like that.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, yeah we can talk.” Steve shuffled under the blanket and looked back at Billy, dreading whatever this was about. This isn’t the first time he got too invested and had to be told all they were doing was <em>having a good time</em>. “Look, I’m sorry about, you know, what happened Last Time. But we can just, like, <em>move on</em>, okay? We can go back to how it was if you want to, we can just FUCK it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Billy looked actively distressed. It wasn’t a face Steve was used to him wearing. “Why are you-why <em>are</em> you naked.”</p><p>“<b>I thought this was a booty call..</b>.”</p><p>“<b>Not even close</b>.”<b></b></p><p>Steve immediately felt like an idiot. Of course, Billy would want a clean break. He’d give the old <em>it’s not you, it’s me</em> and be on his merry way, never to talk to Steve again. Which is. It’s fine. Steve’s fine.</p><p>“Oh, okay.” Steve was trying VERY hard not to start crying again. “Well, if you want to head out, that’s-that’s cool. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around, man.”He couldn’t maintain eye contact and tried to wipe his eyes as subtly as he could.</p><p>“Goddamn it! Steve, I came here to fucking talk to you, so I’m going to fucking talk to you. Let me say what I need to and stop <em>fucking crying</em>. You know I can’t deal with you when you get all misty like that.” He sat down heavily on Steve’s desk chair, taking a deep breath with his head in his hands, collecting his thoughts.</p><p>“Look, I’m sorry I left like that. I know how, <em>attached </em>you get, and I just. Panicked I guess. I shouldn’t have left. That probably fucked you up and <em>I’m sorry</em>. I’m so sorry, Stevie.” He finally looked up at Steve who was completely speechless. Not only was Billy candidly sharing his feelings, he was fucking <em>crying</em>. “I’m just <em>so fucking scared</em>.”</p><p>Steve was drawing a fucking blank.</p><p>“I’m sorry Billy, I don’t know if I, understand.” Billy finally stood up, joining Steve on the bed and taking his hand in his own warm one. “Scared of <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Scared of fucking everything. Scared of my dad, of how I feel about you. Scared of this stupid hick town that’ll fuckin’ <em>crucify</em> us if they find out about us.”</p><p>“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. ‘The fuck do you mean how you feel about me? And, us?<em> Is</em> there an us?” Steve’s heart was in his ass.</p><p>“I was gonna ask you the same thing. Ball’s in your court, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Steve tackled Billy where he sat, straddling his hips and peppering kisses all over his face, both boys giggling.</p><p>Billy took Steve’s face in his hands and not for the first time, Steve thought about how beautiful he is.</p><p>“So I can assume that’s a yes then, or are you playin’ a mean trick on me, Mac N’ Steve?” Steve fucking preened at the nickname. His own parents only ever called him by his full name. He absolutely <em>adored</em> when Billy called him silly little things. It made him feel special. It made him feel loved.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a yes, Asshole. I wanna be with you.” Billy smiled, one of those bright ones he gave just to Steve. </p><p>“Are we about to <em>make love</em>?” Billy grinned at him, tongue between his teeth, waggling it at Steve in that mocking way he does, hands rubbing slowly down his back to rest on his ass.</p><p>“We are absolutely <em>not</em> doing anything if you fucking call it that, Billy.” Steve <em>knew</em> he was whining, but he also <em>knew </em>how much Billy liked it when he did. “But, does that mean we’re, in, love? You love me?”</p><p>“<b>You’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you</b>.”</p><p>Billy and Steve have been fucking for months, they’ve been together for about three minutes, and they’ve been in love for as long as they’ve known each other.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Prompt Fill: Monster Hunting, Fighting Turns to Kissing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve shivered. It was fucking cold out here.</p><p>He was leaning his shoulder on a tree, swinging the nail bat in front of his legs. He and Billy were on patrol, walking through the Hawkins woods, searching for any<em> weird Upside Down-y shit</em>. Hop’s exact words Steve had begged and pleaded for another patrol partner, but Johnathon and Nancy were a done deal, and they had all decided the kids were to stay very much out of patrol.</p><p>So, he and Billy wandered the woods, looking for any weird shit, sharing a pack of cigarettes and filling the eerie silence with light conversation. Mainly Steve trying to make light conversation while Billy makes fun of him (and they both pretend they aren’t seconds away from jumping one another’s bones.)</p><p>He shivered again.</p><p>“Jesus, Harrington why are you so fucking cold always. Haven’t you lived here your whole fucking life?”</p><p>“I just kinda run cold, what’s the big fucking deal? It’s fucking March. It’s cold here.” He shivered again.</p><p>“Good God-here,” Steve’s eyes went huge as Bily shrugged out of his worn leather jacket. He draped it around Steve in a move that was both weirdly gentle and very aggressive. Steve didn’t really know what the fuck was going on. All he knew was that BIlly smelled <em>good</em>. Really fucking good. He put his arms through the jacket sleeves, letting the old thick leather warm him up.</p><p>“Thanks, Hargrove. Hey, you know-” but Steve cut himself off. He went rigid, head snapping around to try and see into the dark woods.</p><p>“Harrington, what the fuck? You some kinda fuckin’ hunting dog?”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up.”</p><p>“Okay, you’re welcome for the goddamn jacket-”</p><p>“Hargrove! Shut the fuck up!” The chirping had gotten louder as the demodog approached, it’s flower petal jaws flexing and moving as it’s eyeless face surveyed the two boys.</p><p>“Fuck, Harrington, are you fucking kidding me? Holy shit I’ve never seen one alive Jesus <em>CHRIST </em>these things are horrifying.” Billy was rambling, scared shitless. Steve ignored him, grinding his left foot into the earth, setting up his stance and raising his bat.</p><p>“C’mon you little fucker, come and fucking get me.”</p><p>The ‘dog charged. Steve swung. And swung. And fucking swung. He couldn’t hear the bones cracking over the blood rushing in his ears and the ringing of <em>protectprotectprotect</em> in his head.</p><p>When the thing was dead he turned back to Billy, breathing heavily, letting the bat, now soaked in putrid black blood hang limply by his side again.</p><p>Billy’s eyes were wide. He was looking at Steve like he had no idea what he was looking at. Like he had never seen Steve Harrington before.</p><p>He dropped his ax to the ground, crossing the distance between them in a few confident strides. He roughly grabbed Steve’s face and planted one on him. Steve chucked his bat to the ground to get his hands on Billy’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.</p><p>“There he is. There’ my <em>King Fucking Steve</em>,” Billy mumbled into his mouth. “Watching you destroy that thing was the hottest shit I’ve ever fucking seen.”</p><p>Steve just grunted and kept shoving his tongue as far as he could down Billy’s throat.</p><p>“We should report the ‘dog to Hopper,” he panted against Billy. “Then we can go to my place. Continue this <em>not</em> next to a carcass.” Billy pulled away and grinned.</p><p>“I like the way you think, Stevie. Which way did we fucking park?”</p><p>They radioed Hopper from Steve’s car before diving in the back, Billy calling that going <em>all the way</em> to Steve’s place a <em>lost fucking cause</em>.</p><p>Steve managed to keep pretty warm the rest of the night, and Billy let him keep the jacket.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Prompt Fill: Basketball Flirting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve is having a bad day.</p><p>He’s supposed to be graduating in two weeks. He’s supposed to be taking the summer off to lie in the midwestern summer sun and drive the kids around before taking a job at his dad’s firm in the fall.</p><p>Until his parents came home. Until a call came in from school saying if he didn’t get his math grade up, he was staring down the jaws of summer school. Until his dad cornered him in the kitchen this morning to let him know he was a disappointment, and that Steve was to work this summer, and that the job offer was completely off the table.</p><p>So, it’s Monday. Steve was twenty minutes late to first period (<em>not</em> because he was having a panic attack in his car). And now he’s in P.E., playing fucking basketball because apparently, the final state championship game which they fucking <em>lost</em> wasn’t the end.</p><p>So today has been the cherry on top of an absolutely <em>stellar</em> year.</p><p>Enter Billy Hargrove.</p><p>He was really laying it on thick today, grinning and winking at Steve, letting his tongue loll all around as he plastered his half-naked <em>sweaty</em> self to Steve.</p><p>“Jesus, man. <b>Stop touching my butt</b>, will you?”</p><p>“What Harrington, giving you too much hope?” He took that moment to steal the ball from Steve, tearing off down the court to make a trick shot like the asshole show-off he is. <em>At least he’s a hot show-off</em> Steve’s dumb brain supplied him. He willed his stupid brain to shut the fuck up and not be gay for Hargrove for like, ten minutes, please.</p><p>Steve was bringing the ball back down the court. Billy was zeroed in on him, and Steve? Steve is over it.</p><p>“<b>Come near me again and I’ll kiss the shit outta you</b>.” Okay, dumb gay Steve brain. Guess this is what’s happening now. Fuck it, he’s got nothing left to lose.</p><p>“Don’t-<b>don’t you mean ‘kick?’</b>” He could see Billy falter. Steve had taken him completely off guard.</p><p>“<b>No</b>.” He took this opportunity to round Billy, putting up a shot for his own team.</p><p>Billy was off his game for the rest of P.E. He was playing the worst Steve had ever seen him, which by Billy’s standards, was still really fucking good. Still, Steve’s team got the jump and ended the period with less of a defeat as usual, so Steve was feeling alright.</p><p>He was taking his time afterward, in no rush to get to lunch to sit with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she dumped him for. He was sitting on the bench in the locker room, tieing his shoelaces when Billy coughed.</p><p>Steve startled, not knowing anyone else was in here. He whipped around to see Billy leaning against the row of lockers.</p><p>“What the fuck was that out there, Harrington?” Steve shrugged.</p><p>“Just some trash talk man, riling you up like you always do to me.”</p><p>“No. That wasn’t fucking trash talk. And I’ve never gotten <em>that</em> actively <em>queer </em>on you.”</p><p>“Look man, I’ve had a really <em>shit</em> day on top of a really <em>horse shit</em> year, so if you’re just here to be an asshole, and call me fucking queer or whatever just turn yourself around go the fuck back to whatever fucking trailer park you came from.”</p><p>Steve knew he crossed a line. He knew it immediately.</p><p>Billy grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up off the bench and slamming him into the lockers.</p><p>“I wonder what could be making your life so shitty, Harrington.” Billy pressed himself up against Steve’s body. “The silver spoon in your ass gettin’ a little uncomfortable? Did mommy and daddy-” Billy cut himself off when he leaned his hips too close to Steve’s and felt,</p><p>Well, he felt Steve’s dick. Steve’s <em>hard dick</em>.</p><p>“Holy shit, you really are queer for me, Harrington.” He ground his hips against Steve, who screwed up his eyes, biting his lip against a whimper.</p><p>“Look, Hargrove, <b>you can either fight me, or you can fuck me</b>.” Billy slammed him against the lockers again. “<b>Or both, I’ll accept both</b>.”</p><p>Billy grinned slowly, and Steve was reminded of some kind of predator, about to devour a tiny defenseless animal. He was absolutely turned on by it.</p><p>“Fuck, Pretty Boy. You’re gonna be a lot of fun for me, aren’t you? You wanna skip out for the rest of the day?”</p><p>“Fuck yeah I do.” Billy took him by the belt buckle and lead him outta the locker rooms, outta the school, and to the Camaro.</p><p>Fuck it, Steve hasn’t had a good day, he deserves some good dick.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Prompt Fill: Monster Hunting Love Confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy is absolutely terrified.</p><p>He had to carry a nearly unconscious and delirious Steve Harrington all the way from their spot in the woods to his huge and empty house.</p><p>The demodog had come out of fucking nowhere, attaching itself to Steve’s left shoulder before anyone could even process what was happening. Billy had seen red, taking his ax to the ‘dog again and again until it was a heap on the forest floor.</p><p>Steve was bleeding. Billy had tried to fashion some kind of tourniquet, using his own shirt and belt to keep firm pressure on Steve’s shoulder while Billy held him to his chest and ran as fast as he fucking could in a pure, blind panic.</p><p>They had forged an uneasy friendship in the tunnels under Hawkins, clinging to one another in the swarm of ‘dogs when they thought the end was imminent. The tension soon drained from their friendship, nights getting drunk and getting to know the other’s deepest fears and pain chased it away.</p><p>He busted into Steve’s house, the back door left open like always, because Steve never locked his doors, because it’s a small town, people don’t really break in and something else about if a demogogron shows up, a lock’s not gonna stop it.</p><p>So he carried Steve inside, up the stairs to the bathroom to the left of the landing, the big immaculate one Steve always lead Billy to when his dad went too far. There was a big first aid kit under the sink, fully stocked and replenished every month.</p><p>He propped up Steve as best as he could on the closed lid of the toilet, getting the kit and returning to Steve, crouching between his legs to survey the damage.</p><p>Steve’s head was lolling about, his eyes glazed over, the pain of the injury causing his brain to go fuzzy.</p><p>“Billy,” he whined when the wound was unwrapped, the air stinging the bite.</p><p>Billy was going to be sick. He didn’t know how Steve is able to do this, stuff down his own fear and pain to clean and heal. He was choked by fear, afraid to lose his closest friend, afraid to cause any more harm to the boy he absolutely loves.</p><p>He had to cut the rest of Steve’s shirt off, not wanting to deal with shifting Steve around any more than he already had.</p><p>“Okay, Stevie, I need you to hold on for me okay? Keep talking to me, Baby. Tell me about-what was the last book you read?” He was wetting a washcloth, wiping the blood steadily oozing from the bite marks.</p><p>“I don’t, Bill you know I don’t like,” he hissed at the scrape of the cloth against tender flesh. “I don’t like reading.”</p><p>“I know, Honey. But just think. You read The Outsiders in class last semester, didn’t you? I know you liked it, you kept telling me about it.” He rang out the cloth, the water tinged pink. He soaked a new cloth with disinfectant. “C’mon Sweet Thing, this is gonna hurt. Keep on talkin’ to me. Who was your favorite character?”</p><p>“Dall-Dallas Winston, ah fuck Bill.” The burn was ridiculous, causing Steve’s vision to go fuzzy-black at the edges.</p><p>“I know, I know I’m sorry, Pretty Boy. Why do you like him?” Steve was white as a sheet, his eyes clouded over.</p><p>“I like, he cares. He helps Johnny and, and Ponyboy. He loves them, they’re his family. He’s, he’s rough around the edges, but-but he cares. He protects.” Billy was wrapping a clean bandage around Steve’s shoulder, bringing it around his chest and under his other arm to secure it to the odd placement of where the thing’s jaws clamped onto Steve. “He’s like- I mean, he makes me think of you.”</p><p>Billy’s hands twitched as he secured the bandaging. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying. Let’s get you to bed.” He gripped Steve again, pulling him up gently and tucking him to his chest again.</p><p>Once Steve was safely in bed, a bag of peas usually reserved for Billy placed against his inflamed shoulder, a few Vicodin pilfered from his mother’s stash running sweetly through his system.</p><p>“Bi-lly, Billy Billy Bill,” Steve was high as a fucking kite. Luxuriating in his bed, making grabby hands (hand) at Billy. “Come lay with me. I wanna, like, hold you and-and squish you.” His big eyes boring through Billy, pleading with him.</p><p>“Stevie, do you even know what you’re saying?” Steve gave a giggle. Billy was turning to mush.</p><p>“Yes, yes I know what I’m saying. I’m saying come here. I wanna love on you some.” Steve was the clingiest fucker Billy’s ever met, constantly snuggling up to Billy, telling him, you’re so warm, man it’s like you’re made ‘a California.</p><p>Billy tried not to move Steve as he joined him on the bed, allowing Steve to tangle their legs together and take his hand. Billy reveled in these little touches. He knew Steve only meant them between friends, comfort for his own self, but sometimes, Billy would close his eyes and imagine they were shared between lovers.</p><p>“Bill, I gotta, there’s something I needta tell you.” Steve’s eyes were nearly closed, unfocused as he looked at Billy. “And you may hate me for it, but I just gotta, say it or else, or else I’m gonna explode.”</p><p>He took a breath, glazed eyes meeting Billy’s.</p><p>“I love you, Bill. I’m in love with you. Have been since we almost fucking died in those fucking tunnels.” Billy’s heart dropped to his ass. He so wanted to believe him, those honey-sweet words everything he’s ever wanted to hear whispered in that silky voice.</p><p>“Pretty Boy, you are absolutely soaring right now. There’s no way you know what you’re saying. Maybe you should try to sleep.”</p><p>“NO.” Steve was indignant, trying to shift to look at Billy, being impeded again and again by his injured shoulder, pain shouting through the drugs. “ I know what I’m saying dammit! You’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you. And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or whatever, and it’s-it’s okay if you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, but I just, you had to know. You’re so good, so good, Bill. And, and I know you don’t think it, but you’re nice. And you care about me. And that makes me love you.”</p><p>Billy was stunned. Completely speechless in the wake of Steve’s confession, he just took in Steve’s face. He was chewing at his lip, doe eyes bright with unshed tears of uncertainty in the face of possible rejection.</p><p>“Jesus fuck, Pretty Boy, that’s all I ever wanted to hear from those sugar lips of yours.” Steve beamed, his smile big and lazy.</p><p>“You need to kiss me then. Don’t believe you ‘til you plant a big fat one on me.” He giggled, clearly pleased with himself.</p><p>“Oh yeah, you gettin’ all bossy on me now?” Billy sat up, leaning over Steve, minding his shoulder. He pressed one of his palms to Steve’s cheek, leaning into his space, close enough to see those big brown eyes cross in an effort to maintain eye contact.</p><p>Billy gently connected their lips, keeping it short and chaste.</p><p>“For the record, I love you too Stevie.”</p><p>Steve had never been happier.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Prompt Fill: Secret Admirer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy spent three and a half hours reading through every single tweet on the account.</p><p>There were so fucking many of them. The earliest one was timestamped from four days ago, so obviously, this person had no life outside of tweeting.</p><p>Tweeting about Billy.</p><p>He had a few personal favorites. He had retweeted them to his account, figuring may as well play it up, make a joke outta everything.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: sorry WHOMST gave you the RIGHT to have eyes that fuckin blue im YELLING</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: watchin u play basketball is a religious experience y are ur arms so BIG hhnnnng</p><p>And Billy’s absolute favorite, which he pinned <em>right</em> at the top of his account</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass</p><p>Billy knew he looked good. Knew he turned heads wherever he went. He did that on purpose. But realizing someone at Hawkins High had set up a thirst account for him, well.</p><p>“<b>I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended</b>.” Billy had explained the situation to Robin, letting her go through the account on his phone. “Like, It’s kinda nice, whoever this guy is, he’s got a crush. But also like, It’s kinda creepy. Plus he’s objectifying me,” Billy was talking through his sandwich.</p><p>Robin made a face of disgust. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’? All of the girls in this fucking school are practically drooling for you.”</p><p>“<em>Hard</em> for Hargrove, Robin. I know you’re like, revolted by the peen and whatever but that does not excuse a lack of basic sexual education and anatomy.” She gagged at him. Honest to God, gagged. He thought she was gonna spew all over the table.</p><p>“If I ever hear you call it a <em>peen</em> ever again, it’s on sight Hargrove.” Heather plopped herself down next to Robin, kissing her cheek before zeroing in on Billy’s phone, still in Robin’s hand.</p><p>“Have you guys worked out who it could be yet?” Her eyes were wide at Billy.</p><p>“Billy says he thinks its a guy even though <em>people with penises aren’t necessarily men</em>.” Robin gave him a pointed look.</p><p>“Yeah Robin, <em>I know that</em>, but, I don’t know I just think it’s a guy penis-having person.”</p><p>Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you actually think that, or are you just hoping in that goblin little brain of yours that this account is Steve Harrington’s.” Billy could feel the heat spread down his neck.</p><p>“Billy, I know Steve is like, the <em>only</em> out guy in this <em>whole fucking town</em>, but you can do way better than him.  PLUS, I feel like it makes more sense if the person running this account <em>wasn’t</em> out and had to channel their gay yearning through social media.”</p><p>“First of all Robin, you have this vendetta against Steve that I don’t get. He’s a nice guy. He’s kinda dopey, kinda dumb, but he’s like, sweet and shit. Second, <em>I’m</em> not out, so it still <em>could</em> be him because he doesn’t think I would, like, accept his advances or whatever. Hence, gay internet yearning.” The chime of the bell sent them packing their lunches, Billy’s phone vibrated in Robin’s hand. She rolled her eyes when he realized he turned on notifications for the account</p><p>“Get a fucking life you loser.” She slapped the phone into his hand. He opened the new tweet with embarrassing zeal.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: i saw u talking with ur mouth full and it was yucky but i was still  🥺🥺</p><p>His head shot up, trying to see who would have been facing him during lunch, but the cafeteria was almost empty.</p><p>The rest of the week Billy took deliberate care of every interaction he had with anyone. Observing who was in his surroundings, and making note of everything he did and said. He took extra caution around Steve, wanting to spot any minute detail that could give away who ran the account.</p><p>The account started blowing up. People were retweeting like fucking crazy. Everywhere he went, he was being asked if he’s seen it, like he doesn’t regularly retweet the good ones. The search for the owner of the account had spread throughout the whole school. A few girls even tried to claim the account was theirs, but every time that happened the account would tweet out something to discredit whoever made the claim, proving them a liar.</p><p>Billy was starting to lose hope it was Harrington. The tweets were coming at all different times, posted whenever the person thought about it, so Billy was losing track of who was near when he said or did something. And the tweets were always about stupid stuff Billy didn’t register doing. On Wednesday night the account said</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: hi when you chew on your pencil and it makes me 🥴 that is all thx for comin to my ted talk</p><p>Friday afternoon gave them all:</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: walked past ur classroom and u were asleep ive never wanted to CUDDLE someone so bad in my LIFE</p><p>But Saturday, Saturday renewed all hope for Harrington Billy could possibly have. Lauren Kranz was throwing a party. It was the first real rager in a while, so everyone was there, and everyone was sloshed. Everyone but Billy, who’d agreed to be designated driver for Robin and Heather like some kinda <em>idiot</em>.</p><p>He was brooding on the back porch when his phone went off. The account was active, and the owner was <em>drunk</em>.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: I can seeeeee u oyt the windw I wan u 2 FUC ME. RAW DOG.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: srry ur so beauitiful nd THICCC</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: I wana shoot my shot but idk if u lik bois</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: (ys i am boi)</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: nd i dont wana get my heart broken agin 😥</p><p>He was right about it being a guy. He was right about him being too nervous to approach him outright. His brain was <em>screaming</em> stevestevesteve at him. Hawkins was <em>shook</em> when Steve came out as bisexual in his sophomore year. He was the golden boy, a real jock. He was NOT the kind of guy people would assume queer in a small midwestern town.</p><p>He was kind of a douchebag, dumping one girl for another, sleeping with her and never calling again. But then he settled down with this guy from the University of Indianapolis for a few months until Steve caught him cheating. Apparently, he had slashed the guy’s tires. Billy was impressed.</p><p>The next year came Wheeler, who only stuck around long enough to make sure Steve was nice and whipped before she fucked off on him too. So Steve retreated. Spent more time with middle schoolers than anybody else. Didn’t want to put his heart on the line anymore until he knew it wouldn’t be stomped on.  Billy could respect that.</p><p>Billy couldn’t risk being out in a town like Hawkins. Word always had a way of getting <em>right back</em> to his dad, and in a tiny hick town with nothing better to do than gossip, it was usually only a matter of hours before Neil heard something he didn’t like.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: srry 4 bad typing rn. drunk nd dysl exic ren’t a happy combo</p><p>Billy’s heart stopped. The drunken idiot was giving himself away. Maybe if he sat here staring at the account long enough, enough would be revealed he could figure it all out like a shitty drunk episode of <em>Blue’s Clues</em>.</p><p>He was so focused on Twitter, refreshing his feed, again and again, he didn’t notice a very drunk, and very unsteady Steve Harrington stumbling out the back door towards him. Until he crashed into his back.</p><p>“Sorry, Bill!” Billy had Steve by the shoulders trying to keep him upright. “Heyy I have a question for you.” Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and veered over to the table and chairs arranged neatly on the small patio. When they were sitting, Steve kept ahold of Billy’s hand.</p><p>“Hi.” Steve was smiling like a little kid. Billy was in fucking love.</p><p>“hey, Harrington. What was your question.”</p><p>“So-oo. I have this friend. A very good friend. Super close. And he has a big ol’ <em>crush</em> on you but he’s too scared to ask you himself because he keeps getting his heart fuckin’ <em>broken</em> so he wanted me to ask. Are you into guys?” It’s a miracle Billy understood any of that, every word blending into the next.</p><p>“That depends.” Billy leaned in, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He saw Steve take in a sharp breath, following the movement with his glazed eyes. He knew Steve was talking about himself, he just wanted to rile him up a little. Make him blush first. “This friend you’re talkin’ about. He’s our age? Like you’re not trying to set me up with one a’ your kids, right?” Steve physically recoiled.</p><p>“NO, you fuckin’ pedo. I’m trying to set you up with a fuckin’, fuckin’ <em>middle schooler</em>. My <em>friend </em>is, uh eighteen. He’s a senior.” Unless Tommy fuckin’ H. sudden;y had a penchant for dick Billy didn’t know about, Steve was 100% talking about himself.</p><p>“Well, if he’s as pretty as you are, I’d love to go out with him sometime.” Billy winked. Steve went <em>red</em>.</p><p>“Okay, but like, does that mean you’d go out with <em>me</em>? Like I’m as pretty as me, right? Because I was talking about me. Not ‘a friend’ I was talking about me. Steve.”</p><p>“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You know, I was hoping it was you running that Twitter. Any time you’d tweet out something you wanted to do with me, I was always picturin’ doing it with you, Baby.” Billy was practically purring. “<em>Especially</em> all the shit you wanted me to do TO you.” Steve gave something between a whine and a groan and flopped himself onto Billy’s lap, straddling him with very little grace.</p><p>“<em>Thank God</em>. ‘Cause you’re so fucking hot I’d let you do anything to me. <em>Anything</em>, Bill.” Billy smiled softly at him.</p><p>“Then let me take you home. Let me put you in bed to sleep off all this. And let me take you to breakfast tomorrow. Something nice and greasy for your hangover tummy.” Steve was a puddle in Billy’s lap. “C’mon, Drunky, git your ass up.” Steve just giggled and muttered <em>Drunky Skunky</em> under his breath.</p><p>Billy sighed and stood up, hefting Steve up with him.</p><p>“Bil-ly,” Steve whined. “You’re so strong, this is so fucking hot. I gotta tweet about this.”</p><p>“Tweet it later, Sweet Thing.” It took Billy for-fucking-ever to find Robin and Heather (they were making out in the basement with the stoners). But Steve chirped and cooed into his ear, <em>so happy</em> Billy could lift him and hold him like it was nothing.</p><p>The last tweet from the account was timestamped from Sunday evening.</p><p>@ImHardForHargrove: Hi this is Steve. Billy’s my boyfriend now 🥰<br/>#ThirstWorks</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Prompt Fill: Surfing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was very bad at surfing. </p><p>He understood the logistics of it, and he had okay balance, but he just couldn’t crack the fucking code. </p><p>Billy had been trying to teach him for the better part of a week. They had taken off to California with the Camaro full of all their shit, and a couple grand pilfered from Steve’s college fund. <em>It’s not like he’s using it, anyway</em>. </p><p>Billy was very good at surfing. </p><p>He had been doing it since he was a little boy, going out on the waves all day while his mother cheered from the beach. It made him feel good, free. And he was convinced the feeling of it was as close to flying as humans will ever come. </p><p>“<b>Is this really your idea of fun?</b>” Steve spat a mouthful of water at him, making a face at the overwhelming taste of salt. “I feel like I’m getting the shit beaten outta me.”</p><p>“Ain’t that something you're used to, though?” Steve tried to splash Billy, barely getting his thigh as he sat straddling his board. </p><p>“What do I even get out of this? Huh?”</p><p>“You get to spend time with me, Shithead. It’s fun if you quit fallin’.” Steve bared his teeth at Billy. It was funny to watch him, usually, such a graceful mover, flop over the second he tried to get up off the board. “I’ll tell you what, Baby. You go put your board with our stuff, then swim back out here to meet me.” Steve looked suspicious but obliged. </p><p>It took Steve barely anytime at all to get all the way back out to Billy, his swim team training still engraved in his muscles. </p><p>“Hop on with me.” Steve pulled himself onto Billy’s board and sat opposite him, straddling Billy’s own splayed legs. “Okay, you’re going to sit on the front, I’m gonna take care of the rest.” Steve did as told, tucking his legs onto the board as Billy leaned over and took off paddling. Billy couldn’t see all that well around Steve, but he knew what he was doing, had been doing it for years. He could feel the wave coming, new from the way the ocean felt moving against his paddling arms. He sat up on the board, turning it around and pulled Steve closer into him. “Okay, Pretty Boy. Paddle with me and when I say, stand up. I got you, I’ll keep us ridin’.”</p><p>Steve was very fucking concerned with this, but he trusted Billy and figured, fuck it, let’s make this happen. </p><p>Billy leaned over, pinning Steve to the board and took off paddling, keeping an eye on the wave behind them. </p><p>“Okay, stay where you are, I’m poppin’ up.” Billy stood on the board, gracefully guiding it on the wave. “Now you, Baby. Pop up like we practiced. I’m right behind you. </p><p>Steve grit his teeth and pushed up, not quite executing it, but Billy was able to re-balance the board from Steve’s awkward motion. Steve was standing with his back to Billy’s chest, trying to stay as still as possible, not wanting to throw Billy off.</p><p>He finally understood. The feeling of the sun on his face, golden and warm, the salt he could taste on the wind pushing his hair back. He felt free. Free from Hawkins, free from parents, free from the fucking hell that was the Upside Down. He knew what Billy meant as they flew across the water. Weightless. </p><p>He whooped and yelled, Billy laughing loudly behind him as he navigated the water.</p><p>“Alright, stay close,” Billy grumbled in his ear and grabbed him around the chest and took them both backward. </p><p>When they surfaced, Billy was grinning, holding onto Steve and keeping the board close with one hand. “I fucking told you!”</p><p>Steve beamed. “You were right! You were absolutely fucking <em>right</em>. That was amazing!” He put his arms around Billy’s shoulders, looking into his face, seeing the relaxed joy of being in the place he loved, doing the thing he loved, with the boy he loved. “<b>Kiss me</b>.”</p><p>“<b>But what do I get out of it?</b>” Billy’s smile had turned teasing, but his eyes stayed the same. Soft and loving and <em>blue</em>. </p><p>“You get this perfect California moment.”</p><p>“Can’t say no to that.” They kissed there in the water, the moment as golden as the California sun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Prompt Fill: Diner Bonding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve was fucked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The engine of the BMW was cold. It wouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to turn over when he turned the key in the ignition. No sound came from the under the hood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve was on the edge of Hawkins, he had been at the quarry, wiling away some time while he couldn’t sleep. It was probably close to four in the morning now, so he said fuck it, got out of the car, and started walking home. He would hopefully make it with enough time for a shower and some coffee before </span>
  <em>
    <span>walking</span>
  </em>
  <span> to </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe his old ten-speed was in the garage still...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Headlights blared at him from around the corner, sweeping over and past him before the car stopped and reversed, pulling up with the passenger door at Steve’s elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy Hargrove, his knight in shining denim was speaking through the window, near shouting over the loud purr of the engine and the screaming of some metal band Steve didn’t bother to know the name of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m walking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see that, dumbshit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you walking down the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>highway</span>
  </em>
  <span> at four-thirty in the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>morning</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Car broke down by the quarry. Figured I would walk home.” Steve shuffled his feet, looking down. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. So. Went for a drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in.” He almost didn’t hear Billy’s command, but Steve knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he got in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man.” Billy just nodded slightly, his face mostly hidden by the darkness of the night. He floored the car, speeding along away from Hawkins. “Um, you know my house is-it’s the other way.” Steve took in how tense Billy was, his jaw clamped and his shoulders raised. His grip on the steering wheel was nothing like the lazy one-hand her usually kept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever just need to escape? Even for a little bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” Steve settled in his seat. He was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to taking a drive with Billy, who seemed to relax a bit. Steve was always good at reading other people. Sometimes he ignored his gut feelings in favor of something he so </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted (the whole Nancy situation was example enough for that), but he could tell when something was wrong. And something was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really fuckin wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Billy Hargrove tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drove in silence, flying down the main highway, past the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leaving Hawkins</span>
  </em>
  <span> sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turned down the music a fraction. “You wanna go get breakfast? I know a good all diner in Indianapolis. They’ll probably be open by the time we get there. My treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy just shrugged, but he didn’t turn the music back up, and Steve called that a win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearly two hours to the city, longer if the person driving you wasn’t a speed demon, so the sun was rising by the time fields began to give way into suburbs, suburbs blooming into urbanism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sat up, ready to direct Billy to the diner on the corner of Shelby and Norton when he caught sight of Billy in the weak morning sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking Christ. Billy, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” His left eye was puffy, the cheekbone below it swollen and purple, a cut right on the high point. His jaw had long bruises on either side, as though, well it looked as though someone had </span>
  <em>
    <span>grabbed him by it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve thinks the worst thing were Billy’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His knuckles were white, his grip a vice on the steering wheel, but they were free of any bruising, any splits. Steve had been on the receiving end of those fights. He knew Billy fought back, and well, so if he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought sent a chill down Steve’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can it Harrington. I’m fucking fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not ‘fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Billy. What happened? Who did this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Princess. I’m not one of your fucking kids, so just shut your fucking mouth and leave it the fuck alone or I will make you get out of my fucking car and WALK back to shithole Hawkins. Give me directions, or get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighed and led Billy along, only speaking when absolutely necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled up in front of Joe’s Shelby Street Diner just as a kind looking waitress with a round face and a gray ponytail was flipping the sign from </span>
  <em>
    <span>closed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to </span>
  <em>
    <span>open</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome in boys. Take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be by with some menus.” She blinked at Billy’s face. “And some coffee.” Steve just nodded at her and led Billy to a corner both against the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents used to take me here.” Steve was staring down at his hands on the table, not knowing where to look. “When I was little my dad opened a branch in the city and got an apartment out here. He would only come home on weekends so every Tuesday my mom would pick me up from school, and we’d drive out here together, and meet my dad for dinner.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling billy all of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom worked at a joint like this. I would come and hang out after school. She would sneak me rootbeer floats and help me with my homework on her breaks.” He was smiling bitterly. Steve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard Billy say </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>about his mother before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was she like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy took a breath, his own hands nervously tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. The denim one. Steve liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She had me real young, dropped outta high school when she got pregnant at fifteen kinda young. My dad was in Vietnam when I was born. Married her when he came back. I was six. She was a total hippie, she got kicked outta her house when she got knocked up, and lived on a commune with a buncha people until my dad came back. I think she only married him so she could have a place to sleep that wasn’t a tent in a field. I don’t remember a lotta that. didn’t eat any meat until I was, like eight years old. And she fuckin’ named me after William Pester, this like hippie leader who was real famous or something. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy took a break from his story when the kind waitress returned to get their orders, both boys loading up on breakfast. Steve tried not to speak so loud, afraid of breaking this spell he had created in this booth with Billy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once my dad was back in the picture, it was pretty different. He’s an asshole. Made her change everything about herself. She was always real Catholic, but kind of a free spirit. Only listened to the parts of The Bible that were nice and said to love everyone, but my dad said pickin’ and choosin’ from The Bible was just pussyfooting around religion. She didn’t like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was a piece of shit from the jump. Married her because ‘a good man supports his family’ or some garbage. Good man my ass. He would yell at her about how she was raisin’ me. Said he left to defend our country, and here she was making sure his only son grew up to be a fuckin’, well. He has a few choice words about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their food was set down before them, Steve absolutely enraptured by everything Billy was saying. They ate in silence for a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mind if, I mean, did she pass away?” Steve wanted Billy to keep talking. He liked learning more about him. Every word he said only softened the edges, made him so much more </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. She left. Packed her shit one night and was just, gone. She called me a few weeks later and I fuckin’ BEGGED her to take me with her, but she wouldn't come back. I think she went back to her commune or something. I haven’t seen her since I was ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’ve been with your dad ever since?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He’s not jazzed about it. Always likes to remind me that I’m a bastard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one that fucked a fifteen-year-old. He was like, twenty when he did that.”Billy rolled his eyes, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he, do,, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Steve asked the question slowly, carefully. Billy snapped his eyes up to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if he did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean-I just, </span>
  <b>does it hurt?</b>
  <span>” Billy just stared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you stupid?” Steve recoiled. “Of course it fucking hurts. He got me real good this time. He’s been especially bitter since we moved here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. That was a stupid, stupid question.” Steve pushed around the scrambled egg on his plate. “Why did you guys move here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want Neil’s fake answer, or do you want the real one?” Billy leaned in conspiratorily. Steve mirrored him without even meaning to. “Can you keep a secret, Pretty Boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images of tunnels, of monsters, of staring death in the face and charging it with a spiked bat, dreams of hard, muscular </span>
  <em>
    <span>masculine</span>
  </em>
  <span> bodies flashed through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m good at secrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Neil likes to say it’s to get a fresh start. Move somewhere where nobody knows us. We can have a clean slate </span>
  <em>
    <span>as a family</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He spat the last few words out. “But the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> story is, he wanted to get my gay ass outta liberal, free lovin’ California, to a shitty hick town where I would be the victim of a fuckin’ hate crime if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>let my impulses run wild</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He caught me with a guy. We weren’t even doing anything good, just makin’ out. Dad went apeshit though. Threw me down some stairs.” He rolled his eyes and casually kept eating like he hadn’t just dropped this enormous fucking bomb on Steve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Bill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you sorry? You didn’t hit me. It wasn’t the first time, sure as shit wasn’t the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why your mom left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she was gettin’ it pretty bad there. I mean, so was I, so I don’t get why she left me there with him. Sometimes I really hate her for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sor-” Steve cut himself off when Billy gave him a sharp look. “You don’t deserve that is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get you, Harrington. You sit there, after I dumped </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> this shit on you, gave you some </span>
  <em>
    <span>incriminating</span>
  </em>
  <span> facts about me, and you just tell me I don’t deserve to get hit by my old man. I beat the shit outta you, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but honestly, I was being super shady that night. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Max.” Steve shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t all you, Harrington. I had gotten into it with my dad about her, how she’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>responsibility</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all that, and then Mrs. fuckin’ Wheeler was all over me when I went there-I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely flirted a little to get some information from her, but all I really did was like, stand there. I think I ate a cookie. Usually, older women just get a little flustered, but she was, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>into </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. So, I was runnin’ pretty hot by the time I met you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my GOD, Karen used to flirt with me all the time! I would just sit and awkwardly smile and be like, yes hello, I am here to see your teenage daughter, since I am her teenage boyfriend.” Billy laughed at that, a real boisterous laugh Steve had never heard from him before. Steve decided he liked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fucking disgusting. Just because she’s unhappy with her life, doesn’t mean she gets to throw her cat at teenage boys.” Steve choked on his pop, trying not to spew it all over the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please never say that again,”  he coughed out as Billy threw his head back and laughed. He slowly regained himself. “And, you know, I mean what I said. I’m good at secrets. I won’t, I’m not gonna tell anybody.” Billy smiled at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? King Steve got some secrets? Any you’d like to share with the class? You know, so we’re on even turf here.” Billy winked. Steve’s face went hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, you and I may have some things in, uh, in common.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, like shitty dads?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Well, I mean yes, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mommy issues?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely, but like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>OTHER</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuff, too.” He willed Billy to understand. He didn’t know if he’d be able to say it out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily Billy got it. A look of pure shock spread over his face, followed by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span> grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fuckin’ way. No fuckin’ way you’re gay too, Harrington.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy’s face fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, like, I like girls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>girls and everything about them, but there’s also, there’s also guys. And I-there’s definite interest, is what I’m saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy smiled again, a softer one this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. Y’know some people are into both. Bisexual, is the word. David Bowie is bisexual. For some people, it’s more about the personality of the person, less the, bits I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s-I mean-Bowie? Sorry, I just mean, like, there are people like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the whole thing doesn’t have to be black and white if that’s not what you feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. That was-thanks man.” Steve mulled the word around in his head. Bisexual. It made sense. It felt, good. “Bisexual.” Billy smiled at him again. He returned it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy checked his watch, yawning like a huge cat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Pretty Boy. We should probably head back. If we go fast we could probably only be a little bit late for class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, or we could say fuck it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy’s eyes lit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? What do you suggest we do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even care man, but it’s been way too long since I’ve been in the city, and I feel like we could </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> use a break from fucking Hawkins. Plus, I don’t know. I like hanging out with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve ducked his head, studying the patch of table by Billy’s left elbow, face hot and undoubtedly red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could go for a nice day of playing hooky with you.” Steve beamed at Billy, throwing some bills down on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then lets fucking go then.” He bounded back to the Camaro, Billy’s sweet laugh ringing through the diner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yeah, Steve could definitely get used to this. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Prompt Fill: Shower Kissin'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve slammed on the water.</p><p>Basketball practice was another doozy, Tommy and Billy were only getting worse, fucking with Steve at any chance they got. He had a bruise on his right hip from Billy bashing him to the ground.</p><p>He had waited until he couldn’t hear anyone else in the locker room before heading in, grabbing his soap and taking his usual spot. </p><p>Unfortunately, he was too steamed up in his bullshit to hear Billy approach until he took the shower <em>right</em> next to Steve’s, because of course he did.</p><p>“You were a special kinda shit in practice today.” Billy brushed behind Steve on his way to the faucet, his hand brushing Steve’s ass as he went. He was about to lose his <em>goddamn mind</em>. </p><p>“Hargrove, I am really over you and your fucking <em>bullshit</em>, so if you could get off my dick, that’d be great. Thanks.”</p><p>“Careful there, Pretty Boy. Don’t let little old me get your panties in a twist.” He leaned into Steve, taking his shampoo from the little soap dish and bumping his shoulder into Steve’s chest. He backed up and lathered his shitty mullet. “No wonder your hair is always like that. This is the nice shit.” He shook out his rinsed hair like a dog, hitting Steve with the droplets. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal right now. </p><p>“Just get the fuck outta my face. I don’t know what your beef is with me, but I just don’t care, man.” </p><p>Billy snickered.</p><p>“I don’t got any beef with you.” He leaned back over to Steve, plastering himself against his side to whisper into Steve’s ear. “You’re just fun to fuck with.” Steve pushed him away, slamming Billy into the orange wall behind him.</p><p>“Ever since you got here, you’ve been <em>completely</em> up my ass for no fucking reason. You want my crown? You already had it. I don’t want it. You wanna be fucking king? Whatever. I don’t <em>give a shit</em> about <em>any </em>of that anymore, Hargrove. So kindly see your next Tuesday outta my fucking life.” Billy looked stunned for a moment, pushing against Steve to slam him into the wall. </p><p>“I don’t fucking get you, Harrington. I don’t like that you just take what I dish, I wanted to see how far I could bend you till you snapped.” He pushed his weight into Steve, connecting them nearly from toe to chest. “Plus, Baby, if I was up your ass, you’d definitely know it.”</p><p>He ground his hips into Steve’s who could feel the press of Billy’s hard dick against his thigh. His brain short-circuited. </p><p>Billy considered him for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the dumbstruck look on Steve’s face before he surged to kiss him, attaching their lips with force, shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth. </p><p>Steve groaned, pulling back enough to speak.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em> you make me fucking crazy.” He went back in for more. “And I fucking <em>hate </em>you.” Back in. “And you’re mean.” Back in. “But <em>Christ</em>, you’re really fucking hot.” Steve couldn’t control his own dick, who had perked up at the first sign of physical attention.</p><p>They made out until the showers behind them went cold, the pipes screaming at them to <em>get a fucking room</em>. </p><p>So they took it on back to Steve’s place.</p><p>And got a fucking room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Prompt Fill: College Tutoring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was gnawing on a pen.</p><p>He was sitting in the chair outside of the tutoring rooms in the library. He had a standing appointment with Billy, easily the smartest undergraduate tutor in the joint, but also easily the most gorgeous man Steve had ever seen. </p><p>He was totally jacked, thick in the most delicious way with long curly blonde hair he made a show of sweeping into a bun with one of the many different colored scrunchies he owned. He had these eyes that made Steve melt, blue and kind and <em>sharp</em> in a way that made Steve go hot every time they were trained on him.</p><p>Billy also had a reputation, horror stories of people going to him for help and winding up in tears as he told them their papers were shitty, that they were idiots for doing their math homework incorrectly, that they should drop out now, save their parents the money.</p><p>But he was always so gentle with Steve, softly explaining where he went wrong, how he good make his arguments stronger, giving him tools like an online citation generator when Steve was too confused and down on himself for not remembering how to create an MLA 8 citation. </p><p>Maybe it was because Steve had cried and called himself stupid the first time they met. Steve hoped it had something to do with the tightness in his gut whenever Billy’s eyes met his and his face lit up with a smile.</p><p>The door to their regular room swept open and a freshman came out, face beet red, clutching papers <em>covered</em> in Billy’s red scrawl. Steve shot up, gathering himself and heading into the room.</p><p>“Jesus <em>Christ</em>, Pretty Boy, it’s good to fuckin’ see you. Some people on this campus are <em>idiots</em>.” Billy was leaning back in his chair, rubbing his hands down his face in a long-suffering way. “So what have you got for me today?”</p><p>“Well, I, um. This one is kinda, kinda different. It’s for that stupid seminar I have to take for my core credits, and its-we had to write about what makes us the most <em>insecure</em>, so I need you, I mean, just read it and don’t focus on, on <em>what </em>it says.” Steve hadn’t wanted to show Billy this work, but they met up at 8:30 every Tuesday, and this paper had been so emotionally <em>draining</em> on Steve, he needed to see Billy and for once in his life, didn’t have any confusing assignments to try and work out. </p><p>“Okay, I’ll be real gentle with ya.” Billy smiled at him, the softest one Steve had ever seen from him. </p><p>Steve handed over the stack of papers and plopped into the chair adjacent to Billy’s, each sitting on either side of one corner. </p><p>Billy scanned through the document quickly, his eyes sliding from side to side. </p><p>“Shit, Stevie. This is really good.” He looked up at him. “I’m not blowin’ sunshine up your ass, this is genuinely <em>really </em>good.” Steve was beaming. Billy was definitely nicer to him than anyone else he tutored, but he had never actually called Steve’s work <em>good</em> before. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re dyslexic?” Steve’s face fell.</p><p>“It’s fucking embarrassing, man. I can’t read for shit.”</p><p>“It’s not embarrassing. It’s something that makes you really fucking strong. I see the way you bust your ass in school. I feel like I coulda <em>helped</em> you better if I had known.”</p><p>“My dad was always, really pissed off about it. He never let me get tested for it, just said I was lazy, or said I was just stupid. I only got tested when I came to college and could do it without him knowing.”</p><p>Billy’s brow was furrowed. </p><p>“FUCK your dad. Fuck him. You’re not stupid. You literally have a learning disability. You are <em>not stupid</em>. Do you understand me?” Billy was looking into Steve’s eyes like he could crawl inside his brain and MAKE him understand. </p><p>“I-yeah. I understand. Thanks, Billy.” Steve smiled at him, just a little one. </p><p>“Okay, so, let’s make this paper <em>really </em>kick ass. So you begin by explaining what it’s like in your brain when you read or write. I think for this introduction, leave any typos there are, really solidify what it is like for you <em>before</em> things like me or spellcheck get in there to fix it. It’ll really send the point home. And I think you should add what you told me about your dad. It’ll make a better transition from that into how stupid you have always felt you are, even though THAT’S not fuckin’ true.”</p><p>Billy continued on, making a few marks on the paper, explaining his ideas to Steve and making comments debunking anything Steve had said about himself in the paper. </p><p>“Okay, I think that’s all I got for ya. When’s she due?”</p><p>“Friday.” BIlly’s left eyebrow went up. “I know, I’m usually such a procrastinator. This one was really easy. Probably because I have a lot I’m insecure about. Hardest part was to pick one.” Billy’s face scrunched up again. The timer on Billy’s watch went off, signaling the end of their hour. “Thank you for your help though, man. I really appreciate it.” Steve packed up his documents, touching Billy’s arm before he turned to leave. </p><p>“Steve, you’re not stupid. It’s really important to me that you know that.”</p><p>Steve turned. </p><p>“Thank you, Billy. I’ll see you next week.” </p><p>Steve got an A and a smiley face that read “Great Work!” on the paper. He was ECSTATIC to show Billy his good work, what he had helped Steve achieve. At 8:30 the following Tuesday Steve bounded into the room and flopped his smiley essay down. </p><p>“I got an A! Billy this is the first time I’ve gotten an A on a writing assignment! The professor said showing how hard my dyslexia makes it for me was really smart! That was your idea! Thank you!” Billy stood up with STeve, bringing him into a bearhug. </p><p>“Fuck, Stevie. I’m so proud of you.” H released him and they both sat. “This really was all you though, I gave very little input into this piece for you. You got this A for us.” Steve beamed. </p><p>“Billy, I really wanna thank you for all your help this semester. <b>I’ve gone through some real shit in my life, but… you make my present and future seem so much more brighter</b>.”</p><p>Billy gawked at him. </p><p>“<b>I… think I love you</b>.” </p><p>“Sorry, <em>what</em>?”</p><p>Billy’s face went bright red. </p><p>“I’m sorry, this is probably really fuckin’ weird, but I’ve had a stupid huge <em>crush</em> on you since we started tutoring, like, six months ago, and after I read this paper last week, and you let me in more, I just. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, and I would like to, if it’s okay, maybe like, take you on a date?”</p><p>This is the first time Steve has ever seen Billy look unsure of himself. </p><p>“I, sorry. You want to go on a date? With me?”</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry, did I just make it weird? You’re just so happy and it was really cute, and I’m sorry if I misread or if you’re not into guys or-”</p><p>“I WANNA GO ON A DATE WITH YOU.” Steve had never been the most articulate. He felt like he was gonna explode from his skin. “I’ve actually had a crush on you too. I wanna, I wanna go out with you.” Billy lit up. It was beautiful. </p><p>“Okay! Okay, you uh, you have my phone number. I’ll call you this week? Maybe we can, what are you doing on Saturday?”</p><p>“I’m free all day! Whatever you have in mind is, I’m down for whatever.”</p><p>“Okay! I’ll give you a call. It’s, um, it’s a date.” They smiled at each other. “Can I kiss you, or is that like, is that too forward.” Steve melted at Billy asking permission. </p><p>“No, that’s-fuckin’ kiss me.” Billy launched across space, connecting them together. His hands cupped Steve’s face as he smiled into their kiss. Steve’s hands trailed u Billy’s muscular back to his neck. Both boys were grinning as they pulled back for air. </p><p>“If you don’t get outta here, Pretty Boy, I’m gonna jump your bones right here, right now.”</p><p>“Is that such a bad thing?” Billy rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Here I am, tryna be a <em>gentleman </em>and shit, and here you are, making me want to throw all that <em>right</em> out the window.”</p><p>“Well, maybe if Saturday goes alright, you’ll get to. I am a classy broad though, you gotta wine and dine me first.” Steve winked, pulling his backpack onto one shoulder. “I’ll see you Saturday then, Bill.”</p><p>“See you then, Sweet Thing.” Steve melted at the nickname. </p><p>It was gonna be the beginning of something, <em>real</em> nice.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Prompt Fill: Uniform Switching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve couldn't stop staring.</p><p>“Is this how you feel about me wearing that?”</p><p>Billy had squeezed himself into Steve’s scoops uniform, the shorts riding high on his think thighs, the little hat jauntily askew on his curls.</p><p>“Harrington, <b>stop touching my butt</b>.” </p><p>“These fucking shorts. There are so little. Are they this short on me? Why does your ass look like that?”</p><p>“Like fucking what Harrington?”</p><p>“Just like, so <em>round</em> and just like, <em>good</em>.”</p><p>Billy rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Yes, they are this short on you. They are fucking ridiculous on you and whenever I look at you I want to <em>rip</em> them in <em>half</em>.” Steve would’ve blushed if he didn’t know <em>exactly</em> how Billy felt. </p><p>Billy had decided it would be funny to put on the sailor suit, to make fun of Steve or something, but the plan backfired when Steve couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The shorts were tight on Billy’s thick legs, the top stretched across his broad chest, tight enough to display the muscles of his back through the polyester blend. Even the sleeves were <em>tight</em> on his arms. It didn’t help that Billy was flexing a lot, noticing the way Steve’s eyes went wide every time the material pulled tighter.</p><p>Billy had thrown his red lifeguard shorts and cropped Everlast top at Steve while he stripped down to but on the suit. Steve was standing there in the shorts, the red showing off everything he had <em>goin’ on</em> without any preamble. The cropped shirt was even shorter on Steve’s long body, hitting him just at the base of his ribs, where his waist nipped in just a little, showing off the trail of dark hair running from under his bellybutton under the shorts. </p><p>“I’m not gonna lie to you, Stevie, I’m glad you didn’t get a job at the pool. If I had to look at <em>that</em> every day, I woulda jumped you at the pool, right in front of God and Mrs. Wheeler and everyone. I can barely even <em>look</em> at you right now.”</p><p>“Down, boy. <b>I’m not the one who thought it would be fun to switch uniforms</b>.” Steve smirked at him, crossing his arms over his chest, hiking the shirt up just a little bit more in the process. </p><p>“Well, now I’m thinking it may be more fun <em>taking them off</em>.” Billy crowded into Steve, dipping his fingers under <em>his</em> shorts, feeling Steve suck in a sharp breath as he felt the hair there with the back of his knuckles. “I wouldn’t mind you leaving the top <em>on</em>, though.” He grinned, pushing the red shorts down Steve’s legs. </p><p>“I can work with that,” Steve groaned, watching the sailor shorts grow even tighter on Billy’s thighs as he kneeled down. </p><p>They started switching uniforms a <em>bit</em> more often.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Prompt Fill: Gym Bros</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve was laying on the floor. </p><p>He had been working his core when he noticed Billy doing squats and lunges up and down the length of the gym’s back wall. He had a bar on his shoulders, the weight of it and the added plates somewhere near two-hundred pounds. Steve was focused on his legs, the short shorts he was wearing kept riding up, tightening around his ass as he squatted and lunged.</p><p>Steve wasn’t even pretending to do anything besides openly watch. It wasn’t like he was the only one; most people, <em>most women</em>, would watch him go through his routine. Steve couldn’t blame them. Billy’s <em>hot</em>. </p><p>“<b>You do know it’s rude to stare, right?</b>”</p><p>Steve turned his head on his mat. Another guy was placing a mat down near his, throwing Steve a wink and beginning his own crunches. Steve smiled sheepishly. The guy was cute, not <em>Billy hot</em>, but he had a nice smile and pretty green eyes and Steve though <em>why the fuck not?</em> </p><p>He and Billy had been friends for a few years now, with nothing <em>else </em>developing between the two of them. Maybe it was okay to, <em>move on</em>.</p><p>“Nah, just makin’ sure the idiot doesn’t hurt himself. He likes to show off.”</p><p>“Good to know you don’t like show-offs, I was definitely gonna try that.” Steve flushed. It’s been a while since he’s been hit on. Most people see him with Billy and <em>assume</em>. </p><p>“Billy’s a bit of an attention whore,” the guy snorted. “I’m Steve.”</p><p>“Aidan.” They shook hands, Aidan holding onto his a little bit longer than necessary, although Steve wasn’t complaining. </p><p>Billy clued into Steve laughing from across the room. He was sitting up from where he had been laying pathetically watching Billy. He was laughing with some guy, obviously turning on the old Harrington charm. Billy finished his reps as quickly as he could, it wasn’t totally worth it if his Pretty Boy wasn’t gawking from across the room. He plopped down next to Steve, leaving no space between their bodies.</p><p>“You ready to go, Sweet Thing?” Billy was intentionally ignoring this other guy, slinging an arm around Steve. “You wanna grab dinner on the way home?”</p><p>“Well, I mean, Aidan asked me out. To dinner. Tonight.”</p><p>Billy was gonna lose his fucking mind. He smiled, making sure to show all his teeth to the fucker that thought he could swoop in on Steve, on <em>his</em> Steve.</p><p>“Have fun, then. I’ll see you at home, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Billy got up and left, turning up his music as loud as he could stand and seethed all the way home.</p><p>He angrily took a shower, angrily made dinner for himself, and angrily sat in his room listening to music on his big headphones. </p><p>Steve came in a few hours later, banging around the apartment like he always did, humming to himself and just making more noise than one person <em>should</em> be able to make. Billy thinks it's endearing. Steve likes noise, growing up in that lonely house made him resent quiet. Billy likes that he can always hear Steve, know where he is in the shoebox they share.</p><p>Tonight, Billy is too pissed off to think it’s cute. Especially ones Steve comes happily slamming himself into Billy’s room and onto his bed.</p><p>“That was more fun than I’ve had in a long time. <em>Fuck</em> I haven’t been on a date in <em>so long</em>.”</p><p>“Can you get the fuck off my bed, please? Thanks.” Steve sat up, furrowing his eyebrows at Billy. </p><p>“Bill, are you okay? Did something happen?”</p><p>“Yes, Harrington. Something fucking happened. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Steve’s face fell. Billy was usually better these days, softer, especially with Steve who <em>needed</em> soft. </p><p>“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help you?” He shuffled up the bed a little bit. Billy sprang up and stalked to the bathroom.</p><p>“No, you can’t. <em>You </em>are the reason I’m feeling like this.” He slammed the bathroom door loud enough to cover Steve’s miserable little gasp. He could hear Steve shuffling around in the hall, obviously battling with his need to respect Billy’s wishes to leave him alone, and his need to comfort and protect Billy.</p><p>He knocked softly on the door.</p><p>“I’m sorry for, whatever I did. I don’t-I’ll leave you alone I guess.” Billy swung the door back open. </p><p>“<b>Come near me again and I’ll kiss the shit outta you</b>.” Steve whirled around.</p><p>“<b>Don’t you mean ‘kick?’</b>” his eyebrows furrowed.</p><p>“<b>No</b>.” Billy swept past him and into his room again, trying to shut the door only to have Steve throw it back open.</p><p>“Billy, what the <em>fuck</em>?” Steve was tense, obviously pissed off. Billy, quite frankly, didn’t think he had a reason to be. “You can’t <em>do </em>this.”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“All the time, you never made a fucking move. We’ve lived together for <em>years</em>. We know, pretty much everything about each other. We’re so <em>touchy</em>, because you know that I’m tactile and <em>clingy, </em>and-and you play with my <em>hair</em> and let me sleep in your <em>bed</em> and don’t judge me for the dumb <em>shit</em> I do, and I have been in <em>love</em> with you for <em>years</em>. YEARS, Billy. And you know, no one has hit on me in a really long fucking time, because people assume you and I are <em>together</em> but finally, <em>finally</em>, a cute guy flirts with me, and I decide that maybe I should <em>move on</em>, because being in love with my asshole roommate, who has fucked every guy in this <em>city</em> except for ME, is shitty! It <em>sucks</em>, Billy. So I go on a date. And I have a good fucking time. And I want to come home and tell my <em>best friend</em> that I had fun on a date, but you pull this shit, and say stuff about <em>kissing me</em> and Billy, it’s not fucking <em>fair</em>!”</p><p>Billy had never seen Steve worked up like this, even when people at his job were being shitty, even when he got a bad grade on something and got emotional about it. </p><p>“I’m-I’m <em>sorry</em>. I didn’t, I didn’t think you <em>felt</em> like that about me, I was kinda just, taking what I could get from you. And you haven’t been <em>with </em>someone in so long, I could deal with, with <em>pretending</em> but then you were ALL OVER that fucker and I got so <em>mad</em>. You’re not like that with <em>me</em> and I couldn’t, pretend, anymore.” Billy felt like a fucking idiot. </p><p>“You wouldn’t have had to pretend if you had gotten your head out of your ass.” Steve looked disgruntled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. </p><p>“I blew it, didn’t I? You got that other guy now.”</p><p>“You didn’t blow it. You just owe me <em>a lot</em> of good dates.” Steve turned on his heel, walking towards his own room, stopping in the doorway to speak to Billy again. “And he was a fun date, but I don’t think I’ll <em>ever</em> love <em>anyone</em> as much as I love you.” He continued walking. Billy stood shell-shocked as the door to Steve’s room quietly clicked shut.</p><p>Billy was up early the next day, pulling out all the stops for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausage, fresh fruit, <em>pancakes</em>, Billy had made it all. Steve liked stupid romantic shit. Billy was hoping if he went above and beyond <em>enough</em>, he could fix everything.</p><p>Steve wandered into the kitchen blearily just as Billy was searching the tiny kitchen for some sort of tray he could use to bring Steve his breakfast. </p><p>“No! I was making you breakfast in bed! Go back to bed!” Steve looked at Billy blankly and continued pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Fine, you little shit. Here’s your food.” He gestured around the kitchen. </p><p>“Uh, thanks, Bill. What’s it all for, though?”</p><p>“Well, I fucked up. I know that, and you said I didn’t <em>totally</em> blow it, but that I owe you some <em>really good</em> dates, and I know you love that soft shit, so I called out of work, and I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed, and I thought we could, like, eat it together?” Billy’s face was bright red, he just knew it. Steve’s face, on the other hand, had lit up, his eyes going all soft.</p><p>“God, Bill. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” Billy’s pretty sure that Steve’s smile could end wars. </p><p>“And I don’t think I told you last night, but I <em>love</em> you. I love you so <em>fucking much</em> and I’m sorry for being a <em>jackass</em> about it, before.” He moved over to Steve, pressing him against the kitchen counter. Steve scooched himself until he was sitting on the counter, Billy standing between his thighs. </p><p>“I forgive you, Bill. I really do. I mean, <em>I</em> coulda made a move too. I just-you know I doubt myself and you know I’m scared of, of <em>rejection</em> and all that good stuff. And I think I'd <em>die</em> if I got rejected by you.”</p><p>Billy leaned in to kiss Steve. He tasted like coffee and morning breath. Billy is sure <em>he</em> tasted like the cigarettes he had nervously chain-smoked out the kitchen window this morning. </p><p>“Baby, I’m never gonna reject you. Mac n’ Steve, you’re <em>it</em> for me.”</p><p>“God this feels like a sappy fuckin’ dream.” Steve giggled. “Grab the food. Let’s go to bed.”</p><p>They spent the sweet morning in bed, eating breakfast and lazily kissing, the first date of many.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Prompt Fill: Truth or Dare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Truth or Dare, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Billy and Steve were lounging on Steve’s bed, drunk outta their ever-lovin’ minds.</p><p>“Umm, dare.” </p><p>“Hmm, I dare you to...”Billy’s voice trailed off as he searched around the room, digging through his drunk little brain for something good. “I dare you to get in the shower with all your clothes on.”</p><p>Steve laughed, rolling slightly from side to side on the bed before standing up and staggering to the bathroom. Billy heard the shower turn on and the curtain being opened, the water going off after a few more seconds. Steve returned, soaking wet, but grinning, coming up <em>right</em> over Billy to shake the water off his hair like a dog. Billy shrieked and pushed him away, laughing.</p><p>“Truth or dare, Bill.” Steve moved to his dresser, stripping off his wet shirt as he went. Billy tried not to stare <em>too</em> openly. </p><p>“Truth.” Steve didn’t even turn around.</p><p>“What’s California like?” Billy felt like the entire room grew somber. It had gotten to the point of the night when the questions were no longer silly things with stupid dares. They were about to get personal, Billy could feel it.</p><p>“Perfect. It’s perfect. Everything is warm, and blue, and golden. The air smells like the ocean, salty and clean, and there is so much <em>freedom</em> there. A big city where nobody gave a shit what anybody else did, <em>who</em> they were,” he trailed off.</p><p>“That sounds so nice. Sometimes I wish I lived in a big place. Where people didn’t know my name, or my family, or anything about me.” Steve had changed into dry clothes and flopped back onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. He had put on a soft shirt, and the shortest little shorts Billy had <em>ever</em> seen. It made his legs look like they went on for <em>miles</em>. </p><p>“Truth or dare?”</p><p>“Truth.”</p><p>“You ever kissed a boy?”</p><p>Billy didn’t know it came from. One second, he was thinking of long legs wrapped around his waist, the next he was, asking <em>that</em>. </p><p>Steve’s face was growing red.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” Billy was stunned.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“I don’t know his name. Tommy and I went to a party at some frat house at the University of Indianapolis and this guy was kinda, <em>flirting </em>with me, and I was kinda, you know, <em>curious</em>, so we went and made out for a while, and like, did some <em>stuff</em>.” Not only was Steve being so open with Billy, he was sending his brain on a wild ride, picturing Steve in all kinds of <em>scenarios</em>. Not that these images were <em>new</em> to Billy’s brain, but the fact that they were and actual <em>possibility</em></p><p><em>“</em>Did you like it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I did. I still, still like girls it’s just, guys are good too.” Steve finally shifted to blink his big eyes up to Billy. “Truth or dare?”</p><p>“Truth.”</p><p>“What about you? Have you ever kissed a boy?”</p><p>“Yes. Done other stuff with boys too. I’m not like you, I <em>don’t </em>still like girls. I mean, they’re like, fine, but they just don’t do anything for me. That’s what was so perfect about California, it was more open there. You could find queers way easier than here. Not everyone was so afraid.”</p><p>Steve had scooched closer to Billy, his hand was resting on the bed a few inched from Billy's chest.</p><p>“Truth or dare, Stevie.”</p><p>“Truth.”</p><p>“Would you let me kiss you?” Steve's eyes went <em>huge</em>. His breath hitched and he leaned in closer to Billy. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, I would-I <em>want</em> you to.” </p><p>“Thank God. Since the first time I fuckin’ saw you, <b>all I wanted from you was a chance</b>.”</p><p>They leaned together, Steve keeping a hand on Billy’s broad chest, another hand gripping his bicep. Billy had one hand wrapped under Steve, pulling him closer from his waist, the other hand threaded softly into Steve’s hair. </p><p>They stayed like that for a long time, gripping one another and lazily making out, exploring one another. </p><p>“You know, I wouldn’t mind doing some, <em>other stuff</em> too,” Steve said cheekily when they both came up for air sometime later. </p><p>“Not tonight, Sugar. This is pretty perfect right here.” Steve smiled.</p><p>“Sap.”</p><p>“Only for you.”</p><p>They both smiled into the next kiss they shared, tangling together and eventually falling asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Prompt Fill: In Class Shenanigans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The paper thunked on the back of Steve’s head and hit the ground.</p><p>He turned and snatched it up before anyone could try and take it from him, knowing it was Billy being a menace the second Mrs. Mapstone’s back was turned to write on the board.</p><p><em>Pretty Boy, I’m BORED</em> the note read, Billy’s writing smudged from his left hand dragging along the paper.</p><p>Geology was the only class they shared together outside of P.E. It was a lower-level science, perfect for Steve who typically had trouble <em>keeping up</em>, but frustrating for someone like Billy, who was ridiculously smart, placed in this class because the higher-level sciences were full.</p><p><em> What do you want ME to do about it? </em>Steve tossed the note back, a few classmates sniggering at the two boys being so far from subtle. </p><p>The paper came sailing back.</p><p><b><em>What would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class</em></b>?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Steve covered his mouth to subdue the snort he let out, turning it into an unconvincing cough at the last second when Mrs. Mapstone gave him a <em>look</em>. </p><p>He sent one sailing back, <em>you really want to get <b>detention? Again?</b></em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>Would you give me a bj in the girls’ bathroom during 5th? </em>Came the next note and Steve nearly choked. He turned around slightly in his chair, making eye contact with Billy who was lounging back in his chair.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Steve winked.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Billy smirked. </p><p>Next thing he knew there was a <em>huge</em> fucking crash. Billy’s desk sideways on the floor. </p><p>“Mr. Hargrove!” Mrs. Mapstone shrieked from the front of the room. “What on <em>earth</em> are you doing?” </p><p>“Sorry,” Billy was grinning likes a shark. “Muscle spasm.” </p><p>“That’s detention for you, Mr. Hargrove. Every day this week!” Billy fixed his desk, putting all of his things back on it carefully. </p><p>A moment later, another balled up paper hit the back of Steve’s head.</p><p>
  <em>Remember to meet me in fifth, Pretty Boy ;)</em>
</p><p>Steve was wandering down the hall halfway into fifth period, swinging the hall pass around on his finger when he was roughly grabbed around the waist and pulled into the girls’ bathroom. Billy locked the door behind them, slamming Steve against it.</p><p>“Pretty sure you owe me, Baby.”</p><p>“I don’t owe you shit. I never actually agreed.” Steve widened his eyes innocently.</p><p>“That’s not fair, Baby. You completely agreed.” Billy pressed in even closer. “You kept on givin’ me those big <em>fuck me</em> eyes in class.” He nipped at Steve’s ear, grumbling into it, “On your knees for me, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Billy thought week’s detention was pretty worth it.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Prompt Fill: Drunk Billy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy was slumped on the couch when Steve unlocked the front door.</p><p>“H<em>ey</em>, Pretty <em>Boy</em>.” Billy was slurring, sitting low in the large couch in the Harrington’s sitting room. </p><p>“Billy, Jesus. How’d you get in here?”</p><p>“You leave your backdoor unlocked. Just BEGGIN’ for someone to break in and steal all the fancy shit in your fancy house.”</p><p>“I’ve told you, Bill. People don’t really do that here. It’s a small town.” Billy just scoffed. Steve took a seat next to him on the couch before zeroing in on the completely <em>empty</em> vodka bottle on the coffee table. “Jesus, fuck. <b>How much did you drink?</b>” Billy slurred a giggle.</p><p>“Enough.”</p><p>“God, have you thrown up? That’s a lot of vodka.” Billy shook his head.</p><p>“I’m not a <em>pussy</em>, Harrington. I don’t need to yak like some <em>freshman</em>.” He was as indignant as he could be while his cheeks were flushed and he was sitting like a toddler. “Was gonna wait ‘til you got home from Scoops, but I got impatient.” Billy leaned precariously over to Steve, slumping his head down on his lap.</p><p>“Is there something wrong?” Billy grunted. Steve tangled his fingers into his curls.</p><p>“My dad’s just bein’ an asshole. But, like, what’s new?” Steve hummed. “He didn’t say anything about my birthday yesterday. And I know-I wasn’t <em>expecting </em>a lot, but maybe just a <em>Happy Birthday</em> woulda been nice to hear from my own fuckin’ father. Instead, he just yelled at me since I got back from your place so late.” Billy had spent the day at Steve’s, sleeping over so they could share breakfast together, followed by <em>lots</em> of birthday sex, followed by a nice lunch they made together, followed by <em>more</em> birthday sex until Billy had to go home for family dinner. He was thirteen minutes late. His father slapped him for it.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Bill. I’m <em>really sorry</em>. I shouldn’t have convinced you to stay, that’s all my fault.”</p><p>“It ain’t your fault. You’re not the one hittin’ his kid.” Steve frowned. He felt extremely <em>guilty</em>. </p><p>“Why don’t I take you to bed. You can stay here and we can cuddle all night.” Billy sat up slowly, licking his lips ina way that was <em>usually</em> hot as fuck, but in his drunk state, he was a little overzealous with it. </p><p>“You wanna take me to bed, Pretty Boy?” He stood up shakily, Steve following quickly to take his arm and guide him up the stairs. </p><p>They were quiet as they got ready for bed, Billy doing little more than getting completely naked and throwing himself on the bed. Steve took more time, brushing his teeth and hanging up his Scoops uniform for the next day, putting on a pilfered Mötley Crüe shirt and his Hawkins High gym shorts.</p><p>When he slid in next to Billy, he curled his body around Steve’s, holding him close to his chest. </p><p>“Why you wearin’ that?”</p><p>“The shirt? It’s soft and makes me think of you.”</p><p>“Nah, I meant clothes at <em>all</em>. Thought you were takin’ me to bed.”</p><p>“I meant to <em>sleep</em>, asshole.”</p><p>“You don’t wanna fuck around?”</p><p>“<b>Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would</b>.” Billy stiffened at that, trying to pull away from Steve who just clung on harder. </p><p>“Sorry, Harrington. I didn’t know my choices were so <em>offensive </em>to y-”</p><p>“Bill, no, I didn’t mean that I don’t <em>want to</em>, shit I always fuckin’ <em>want to</em>, it’s just, I don't feel right hookin’ up with drunk people. Want you to be, you know, in your head, and all that.”</p><p>Billy was gazing at him softly in the dark, the tension in his back releasing as Steve rubbed his hand up and down. </p><p>“Oh, um. Thanks, Stevie.” Steve just smiled and nestled himself back into billy’s chest. </p><p>“Maybe tomorrow, if your hangover doesn’t kick your ass too hard.” Billy snorted. </p><p>“I’ll be good to go, you mark my fuckin’ words, Baby. No way I can wake up to you in <em>my clothes</em> and not wanna tear ‘em <em>right</em> back off ‘a ya.” Steve smiled against Billy’s chest, rubbing his hand along his flank under the blanket.</p><p>“<b>Well, I <em>am</em> pretty irresistible</b>, I’ll give you <em>tha</em><em>t</em>.” Billy laughed softly into Steve’s hair.</p><p>“Yeah, you are.” He planted a kiss to Steve’s head. “Thank you, Pretty Boy. For lovin’ me, for makin’ me feel alright. You’re so good.”</p><p>Steve cuddled in deeper, as though he was tryin’ to shove himself <em>right</em> into Billy. </p><p>“Thanks for letting me love you.” </p><p>Steve drifted to sleep with Billy wrapped around him, pressing  <em>I love you</em> into his hair.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Prompt Fill: Drunky Skunky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy knocked on the apartment door. </p><p>He had gotten out of work later than he had hoped, shitty customers demanding service a minute before closing, pushing back his closing and cleaning duties almost an hour. It’s fine. He’s fine.</p><p>So, he’s the last to arrive at the party. </p><p>Jonathan opens the door for him, obviously high as a kite, with a <em>Billy! Hey man!</em> Billy claps him on the shoulder, shuffling past him in the little entryway. </p><p>He can hear footsteps running from deeper in the apartment, Steve appearing at the end of the hallway, muttering <em>billybillybillybillybillybillybilly</em> with every step. He jumped into Billy’s arms wrapping his legs around his waist.</p><p>“Hi.” His eyes were glazed, and he had a big dopey grin on his face. “I missed you.”</p><p>“Yeah, Baby? I missed you too. <b>How much did you drink</b>?” </p><p>“Robin’s been making me drinks!” Robin made the best drinks out of the gang, but they were deadly. She could hide copious amounts of the cheapest alcohol ina pretty good cocktail. It helped too that Steve loved the sugary stuff. Billy once made him a daiquiri and he about lost his damn mind. “I’m a drunky little skunky.” </p><p>Jonathan was laughing behind them as Billy carried Steve into the kitchen, fixing himself a drink before heading into the living room with the rest of the gang.</p><p>“You two make me ill,” Robin deadpanned as Billy sat down in Steve’s empty spot, Steve settling into his lap. </p><p>“Rob, if you could quit being home of phobic, that’d be great.” Billy grinned at Robin. Steve was giggling, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder, shoving one of his hands up Billy’s shirt, resting it against his tummy. </p><p>“I think they’re sweet together!” Nancy cooed.</p><p>“That’s because you dumped Steve in high school and <em>still</em> feel bad about it,” Barb interjected, everyone howling with laughter as Nancy’s face went red.</p><p>“Okay, okay. We had a pretty good game of Never Have I Ever going on, we need to get Billy caught up.” Jonathan winked at Billy from across the cozy living room.</p><p>“Oh, that’ll be easier. There isn't a lot I haven’t done. Is that why Stevie is so sloshed though?”</p><p>“Yeah, Robin may have been targetting him a little.”</p><p>“That’s his own fault for telling me SO many DETAILS about all the sex you two have. We also made him take a shot every time he called you ‘Daddy”.” Billy threw his head back and laughed, Steve making a disgruntled sound at Robin.</p><p>“Okay, well I’ll join in. Whose turn is it?”</p><p>“Mine.” Barb squinted at him. “Well, never have I ever been born in California.” Bily raised his glass at her, tipping it back and taking a drink. It was her girlfriend’s turn next. Alicia didn’t know Billy all that well, so she was silent for a minute, trying to rack her brain until Barb grinned and leaned over to her and whispered something into her ear.</p><p>“Never have I ever had a mullet?” She said it as though she was hoping it wasn’t true. Everyone roared with laughter.</p><p>“It was only a mullet for like, two months. It was growing out weird!” Billy still took a good-sized gulp. Steve ran his fingers through Billy’s long hair.</p><p>“I like the end result just fine, but those two months were, not awesome, Bill.” Billy tried to look as offended as possible. He knew the mullet was a poor moment for him.</p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side!” Steve laughed, putting his hand back in Billy’s shirt. “That’s okay, I forgive you.” They kissed lazily and sloppily.</p><p>“Can you two not suck face for like, five seconds?” Robin yelled over them.</p><p>“I have an idea!” Jonathan was practically vibrating in his seat. “If they can go one hour without kissing, we all take a shot, if they kiss, they both have to take,” he counted everyone quickly “three shots each.”</p><p>“<b>Wait, no! Don’t take kissing away from me!</b>” Steve shrieked indignantly.</p><p>“That many shots are gonna fuckin’ kill Steve at this point, I think,” Billy said.</p><p>“Then split it up differently, but either way, six shots must be taken.” Jonathan leaned back in his chair and smirked at Billy. “Should we vote on it?”</p><p>Robin raised her hand, grabbing Heather’s arm and shooting it into the air as well. Barb laughed and raised hers, Alicia following suit. Jonathan counted hands, Nancy laughing with hers in the air. </p><p>“You all are bullies. Mean, homophobic, bullies.” Steve was pouting in Billy’s lap. He was clingy, totally physically affectionate. If taking three shots didn’t kill him, going one hour without kissing Billy certainly would.</p><p>“So it’s a deal. Let’s keep playing then! And you two, now kissing.” Robin winked at them, taking her turn. “Speaking of which, never have I ever kissed a boy.”</p><p>Everyone except Barb drank, her and Robin high-fiving.</p><p>“Fine, fuck you, Buckley. Never Have I ever kissed a girl.” Billy raised an eyebrow. Everyone drank.</p><p>It was Steve’s turn. This should be a mess. </p><p>“Billy, what’s something I haven’t done?” He loudly whispered. Billy smirked wickedly, leaning forward to whisper into Steve’s ear, throwing a wink to Nancy.</p><p>“Never have I ever had a pregnancy scare.” Jonathon and Nancy when matching shades of deep red while everyone laughed.</p><p>“I forgot about that! <em>God</em>, you two are straight.” Robing hooted through laughter. </p><p>“That was cold, Billy.” They had both joined in on the laughter, Nancy’s breakdown about a missed period well in the past. “I can get you <em>right</em> back though. Never have I ever, had a <em>chlamydia</em> scare.”</p><p>“Well played, Byers! I didn’t know I told you about that!” Billy threw back his drink, shifting Steve off his lap to get a refill. Steve whined and clung to Billy tighter. Steve was a fucking barnacle when he was sloshed. Billy sighed and picked him back up, just taking Steve with him into the kitchen.</p><p>“When the fuck did that go down?” Heather yelled into the kitchen.</p><p>“Before I knew you all. Some guy I had been fucking around with in California told me <em>he</em> had the clap and I had to get tested, but I was fine,” Billy shouted back.</p><p>“Whore!” Robin called as he waddled back into the living room. He couldn’t flip robin off, holding two cups in one hand, the other support Steve’s ass. They flopped back onto the couch with very little grace.</p><p>“Never have I ever,” Nancy was thinking, biting the inside of her cheek, deciding who she wanted to fuck over. “Um, never have I ever dated someone with blue eyes.” Steve reached for Billy’s fresh drink, but he lifted it out of reach and pressed the water he had brought for Steve into his hand instead. </p><p>“Oh, thank you, Bill.”</p><p>“Just ‘cause I don’t wanna deal with you yaaking all night.” Steve huffed. “I’m just kidding. I don’t want you to get sick, though.” Steve drank about half the cup, leaned in and kissed Billy.</p><p>“YES!” Everyone was cheering.</p><p>“We fuckin’ got ‘em!” Jonathan and Nancy high fived.</p><p>“They couldn’t even go twenty fucking minutes!” Robin was shrieking.</p><p>“I forgot! I forgot!” Steve was red, Billy was just laughing his ass off.</p><p>Barb began lining up shot glasses on the table, taking the bottle of shitty vodka Alicia handed her. </p><p>“Okay, you can switch it up any way you want, but six must be taken. That was the deal.” She grinned at Billy, he just rolled his eyes.</p><p>Billy ended up doing all six shots.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Anon: Trash King Billy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anon ask on tumblr:<br/>So ya know the close up picture of Dacre as Billy for some reason seeing that picture really made it set in that Billy has a mullet, like a fucking mullet and i feel so conflicted because he’s still hot as hell and i’m sure steve feels the same but also i feel like sometimes steve will just start laughing because he remembered he’s in love with a disgusting man that puts cologne on his dick and has a mullet</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In reference to <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/post/613337704007090176/starryjudeaugust-dacre-behind-the-scenes-close">this post</a></p><p>Steve and Billy were cuddling in bed.</p><p>Billy spooning Steve, keeping him <em>tight</em> to his chest, just the way Steve likes to be held.</p><p>They were laying in their own sweat and spunk and grime, just getting themselves together in their post-orgasm haze. Steve turned around in Billy’s arms, trying to nestle his face into his neck, but getting a face full of curly hair.</p><p>Steve burst out laughing.</p><p>“What’s so funny, Pretty Boy?”</p><p>“You have a fucking mullet.” Steve was close to pissing himself, his stomach hurting from how much he was laughing.</p><p>“You didn’t, like, <em>know that</em>?”</p><p>“Well, I mean, I did, but sometimes I don’t think about it, and I just got a face full of hair and you have a fucking <em>mullet</em>, Bill.”</p><p>“But what’s so funny about that?”</p><p>“You’re just kind of a trash monster, dude.” Billy let out a howl of laughter, not expecting the turns this conversation was taking.</p><p>“What do you fuckin’ mean, trash monster?” Billy was fighting back his own tears, just barely choking out his question around his laughter.</p><p>“I <em>mean</em> you put cologne on your <em>dick</em>, Bill, and you have that fuckin’ porno ‘stache, and you have an honest to God fuckin’ <em>mullet</em>. And like, you’re hot as all fuck, but a <em>mullet</em>.”</p><p>The boys descended into giggles.</p><p>“I mean, you weren’t complainin’ about the <em>porno ‘stache</em> when I was eating you out, and I’m <em>sure</em> you could feel it.”</p><p>“But that’s exactly what I <em>mean</em>! Like in the moment, it was super sexy, and <em>you’re</em> super sexy and all that, but then it just kinda hits me and my brain is just like. Mullet.”</p><p>They both began laughing again.</p><p>“Well, sorry Princess. I could try to clean myself up, if you like.”</p><p>“Nah.” Steve snuggled into Billy’s neck, smelling the cologne on his skin and the Aquanet in his hair. “I like you like this. Mullet and all.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Anon: Stevie Doesn't Feel Pretty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so i have a weird fem!harringrove hc that i wanted to share, so Stevie is very insecure, she feels like she’s too thin, too tall, just over all not femmine enough to fit into what people consider beautiful, and no one ever tells her that she is beautiful sure she gets nice and sweet and cute and all the other shit you tell to a girl that you like but wouldn’t date, and that plus the fact that she’s been cheated on in past relationships really just makes her feel unlovable...(pt.1)</p><p>pt.2)… and then Billie (idk what people call fem!billy and steve sorry!) rolls into town and sees stevie and her heart just melts, this girl is just her type, so she tries to flirt with her, which turns out awful because stevie just assumes she’s getting made fun of and maybe one time Billie tries to compliment stevie on something she doesn’t like about herself and stevie doesn’t get that it’s a compliment and she just looses it…            </p><p>pt.3)… Stevie starts absolutely going off on billie, saying shit like “I get that i’m not pretty  ok?! you don’t have to fucking rub it in!” and just breaking down in front of billie, eventually she realizes that she’s not even upset with billie she’s just upset, and she’s just taking it out on billie because she made fun of her but she can’t stop. Billie however makes her stop, probably kisses her like the smooth bitch she is and says something like “who said i was joking princess?”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Basically, I imagine fem!Billy (I think most people do Billie, that’s the way I’ve seen it) as MUSCULAR as FUCK like women of WWE like <a href="https://beckyslvnch.tumblr.com/post/184258358182">Rhea Ripley</a>  m u s c u l a r. So Stevie ( i’ve sometimes seen Steph? Stevie’s fine) who already doesn’t really like her body, sees this GORGEOUS new girl, who comes rolling in with a Kardashian ass and the thighs to match, and she’s like :/ But Billie is like WHO is this beautiful dainty ballerina bitch that looks like a motherfuckin’ PORCELAIN DOLL I think imma write a drabble bc this is some galaxy brain shit. Stevie loves traditional feminity, looking small and pretty and dainty, so that’s what we’re riding with, folks.</p><p> </p><p>Stevie was always slender.</p><p>She was long legs, slim hips, no tits kinda slender. People said she had the body of a young boy. Her arms were thin, with tiny bird wrists. She was tall, nearly six-foot (well, 5′10″, but when you’re a girl, you may as well be a giant). Her shoulders were broader than most girls’, she looked like a fucking dude in halter tops.</p><p>Nancy was 5′4″, perfectly average height for a young woman. Stevie would probably kill to be that little, that petite. Nancy was beautiful. Her square jaw made her face more artful, Stevie’s made her look more masculine. SHe didn’t like wearing her hair up, for fear of showing it off.</p><p>She always wore a full face of makeup, her mass amounts of hair always styled and perfect, reminding everyone that she is a <em>girl</em>.</p><p>When Billie came roaring into town in that big blue muscle car, Stevie just about lost her MIND.</p><p>This girl was absolutely beautiful, thick curly blonde hair, <em>blue</em> eyes, and an <em>attitude</em> that could kill a grown man. Stevie was mostly obsessed with her <em>body</em>.</p><p>Billie was strong, muscular, but Stevie couldn’t help comparing herself to this perfect specimen. Billie had hips, she had tits and a nice ass. She had a soft face, with full pink lips and <em>thick</em> eyelashes. Despite the fact that she was <em>shredded</em> and could probably bench more than half the basketball team, she was feminine. She was soft and pretty. Everything Stevie had always wanted to be.</p><p>The first time Billie swaggered up to Stevie, looking up at her from their 4 inch difference, and crooned <em>aren’t you a pretty little thing</em> Stevie thought she was being made fun off. She didn’t feel pretty, and she certainly wasn’t <em>little</em>. Stevie rolled her eyes and walked away.</p><p>When Carol told Billie the embarrassing story of Stevie stuffing her bra in the ninth grade, only for the tissues to fall out of her shirt at school, Billie looked at her and purred <em>don’t know why you’d want to change a detail or that ballerina body</em> and Stevie thought she was being made fun of <em>again</em> and quietly kept eating her sandwich.</p><p>When Billie walked in on Stevie in the bathroom at prom, tears dripping down her face, adjusting her dress this way and that and asked <em>what’s wrong, pretty girl</em> Stevie lost it.</p><p>“Why do you keep doing that? What the fuck have I <em>ever</em> done to you?” She howled.</p><p>“I don’t understa-”</p><p>“<em>No</em>. I know that I’m not, not <em>pretty</em> or even <em>hot</em>, like you are, I mean <em>fuck</em> somehow you’re both? But I know that I’m skinny and tall and awkward and whatever. I’ve been cheated on enough times to know I’m not sexy or anything, but you don’t have to come in here teasing me all the time about it I’m <em>done</em>.”</p><p>“I didn’t-you’re very-<em>what</em>?” Billie was floored. She had no idea what the fuck was happening. tears kept dripping down Stevie’s chin.</p><p>“You know what? Tonight, I actually felt kind of pretty. I like this dress, but then I caught Andrew Rivers, <em>my fucking date</em> making out with Rachel Cox, and he told me that I was sweet and all, but that I looked like a fucking <em>dude in a dress</em> and I just want to go home and not deal with <em>you</em>.” She turned and tried to stomp out of the bathroom, but Billie took her wrist.</p><p>“You’re beautiful. I think you may be the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. I know you think you’re boyish or whatever, but you’re so delicate, you’re like a fucking <em>doll</em> you look like art to me.” She took a step closer, crowding Stevie against the sink. “And I’m not joking, or teasing or anything.”</p><p>She swept in and kissed Stevie like she had never been kissed before. They ended up returning to the dance, and Billie may or may not have planted her knee <em>straight</em> into Andrew Rivers’s dick.</p><p>And Stevie felt beautiful. Tall, and slender, and boyish, and feminine, and <em>beautiful</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Prompt Fill: Steve Throws a Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Billy just wanted to get home to his little apartment, snuggle up with Steve, and watch a movie before going to bed early and fucking around.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He was not expecting to walk into </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span> in their little apartment.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>That morning, Steve had received a letter, an acceptance into college. He and Billy had been working hard on his applications, penning essays and questions, filling out forms and explaining Steve’s two-year gap between now and graduation.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>They were ecstatic, all their hard work finally paying off with Steve being accepted into an early childhood education course. He had flown off to his job at the local daycare center, excitedly showing off his new letter.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Billy couldn’t have been prouder. But, after a full day of school and work, Billy wasn’t necessarily in the mood for a party. He’d show up and grin and have a few drinks for the sake of Steve, but he was jonesing for their soft bed and Steve’s soft skin.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Billy! Hi!” Seve was squeezing through a few people on his way to Billy.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Hey, Pretty Boy. What’s all this?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Celebrating! I invited some coworkers from the daycare, and some brought a few more people.” Steve had finally reached Billy, planting a kiss on him that tasted like vodka and cranberries.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What’s with the party, though? I thought you and I were gonna celebrate you tonight.” Billy toned his voice down, purring in Steve’s ear, grinning as he shivered.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You said I should have a party!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I asked if you were having a party. I didn’t tell you to have a party</b>
  <span>.” Steve’s face fell.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Oh shit, Bill, I’m so sorry! I can tell everyone to leave!” Billy rubbed his hands up and down Billy’s back, soothing the tension.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No, Pretty Boy. It’s okay. I’m proud of you, let’s celebrate.” Steve smiled at him, kissing him softly again.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There were shrieks of </span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s play truth or dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>where the fuck is steve let’s play</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Steve pulled away from Billy, his eyes bright.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No.” Steve pouted.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Please, Bill! It’ll be fun!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I’m not playing truth or dare</b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy was playing truth or dare. Most of the party was sitting in a circle, trading turns back and forth. Steve was leaning into Billy, completely boneless after being dared to take four shots in a row. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Bill! Truth or dare!” Steve slurred from where his cheek was planted into Billy’s shoulder.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Truth, Stevie.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Are you mad at me? For throwing a party? I know you’re sleepy.” Steve’s eyes were big as he gazed at Billy.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No, Sweet Thing. I’m not mad at you. I’m real proud, and you deserve to celebrate.” Everyone cooed at them as Steve giggled into a kiss.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Truth or dare, Stevie?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Dare!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I dare you to drink a full glass of water.” Steve pouted, wanting to stay as nicely drunk as he was.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Or, how ‘bout this. I take another shot.” Steve was up and zooming to the kitchen.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Steve, nO!” Billy was up after him, pushing through party-goers to get to Steve in the kitchen who was slamming down another shot.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>This is the opposite of what I told you to do</b>
  <span>.” Steve just smiled at him, wrapping his long arms around Billy’s shoulders. “When you’re pukin’ all night, I ain’t holdin’ your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve ended up spending most of the night kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying his guts. Billy spent most of the night sitting next to Steve, holding his hair off his face and rolling his eyes periodically.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Prompt Fill: Domestic Fighting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve was sitting on the couch when Billy got home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The television was on, Steve was slumped on the couch, his mouth open as he slept. Dinner was on the table, the table set for two, the food cold. Billy’s heart dropped. He and Steve had made plans tonight. Steve had been so excited to eat dinner together, their schedules typically keeping them apart. After work, Billy had gotten sucked into a project for school, not returning home until very late into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve had been working, saving up as he decided whether or not to go back to school. He had received a promotion earlier in the week, wanting to have a nice dinner on the one night off they’ve shared in almost a month. And Billy forgot. And he felt like shit about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned off the tv, scooping Steve up and carrying him to bed. He took to the kitchen, wrapping up the food Steve made and cleaned the dishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy?” He turned around to see Steve leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sorry Party Boy. Got caught up doing school work. Sorry for missing dinner.” Steve hummed, watching Billy do the dishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, it really sucked waiting up for you, You could’ve called, let me know you were blowing me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t blowing you off, I have school and shit to worry about on top of work.” Steve’s eyes flashed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? That I don’t understand stress because I’m not in school? Sorry for wanting to spend time with my fucking boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant, Steve, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Then what did you mean? You </span><em><span>know</span></em><span> how hard I’ve been working, I just wanted to celebrate something I’ve worked my </span><em><span>ass</span></em> <em><span>of</span></em><span> for and the one time I ask you to be home, you can’t even do </span><em><span>that</span></em><span>. I mean, </span><b>what’s the point</b><span>?” Billy put down the dishes. His hands were shaking. He was pissed off, trying to keep the anger under his skin, not wanting to turn on his Pretty Boy.</span></p><p>
  <span>“The hell do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’s the point</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point of even being together if I never see you!” The silence that followed was cold. Steve swallowed. “Bill, that’s not what I meant I’m just mad I’m sorr-” Billy pushed past him, walking to the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to take a walk. I’ll be back tonight.” He turned around to look at Steve, tears in his big eyes. “I’m not dumping you right now, I just need to calm down before we keep talking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy had spent enough time in therapy to know when he was angry enough to throw words until they cut, say things just to hurt. He knew Steve spent enough time talking about his abandonment issues in therapy to make it clear they weren’t over, that Billy was just not ready to talk, not ready to hurt the man he loves so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve finished the dishes as Billy took a lap around the block. He sat fidgeting on the couch as he waited for Billy to return. He heard the keys scraping in the lock and stood. Billy shouldered the door open, kicking off his boots and hanging his jacket back on the hook near the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy, I’m sorry. I know you work really hard, I was just upse-” Billy moved over to Steve, pulling him into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I should’ve come when I said I was going to, or at least called you.” They stood there holding one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>It doesn’t matter anymore</b>
  <span>. We just gotta talk more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise, Baby. I’ll be here for you more. I’m sorry.” He pushed Steve back, putting his hands on either side of Steve’s neck, holding his face. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Bill. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Sweet Thing. Let’s go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They curled up together, tangling themselves under the blankets.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Anon: Soulmate AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was thinking about a soulmate au where when your so gets hurt you feel their pain too and Steve keeps feeling horrible pain in the worse spots and finally realizes that everytime Billy shows up with bruises or is wincing or something it's in the same spots he's hurting, and when Billy beats him up he figures it out too but neither of them say anything because it's a small town in nowhere Indiana but one of them confronts the other about it and its ansty but like cute at the end, idk but yeah</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Steve spent his childhood covered in bruises, wincing as new ones bloomed on his face, chest, back, arms. He brought into the school counselor's office at least once every few weeks, asked if his parents laid their hands on him. He shook his head <em>no</em>, feeling pangs of hurt for his soulmate, a young child being hurt as often as Steve.</p><p>He had fingerprints along his arms, his chin, smudges of black and blue and purple. </p><p>When Steve first met Billy Hargrove, a lot of things clicked into place. The first thing he noticed was the bruise on his hip, just visible above his basketball shorts. Steve had a matching one under his shirt.</p><p>He watched bruise bloom on his own skin, matching those on Billy. </p><p>He spent nights laying on ice, frozen peas covering the sorest areas. His heart hurt for Billy, the pain he had put up with his entire life.</p><p>When they got in the fight in the Byers’ house, Billy felt the smashing pain of the plate as it hit Steve’s head. He knew immediately who Steve was to him, and what Steve being in his life would mean. </p><p>Steve being his would mean pain for the both of them, the hits Billy would take would reverberate directly to Steve.</p><p>Being with a boy in a town like Hawkins would only lead to hurt. </p><p>So they backed off, keep their distance from one another. </p><p>Until they didn’t. Until Steve couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t handle how many <em>emotions</em> he felt for Billy at once, a mess of lust and sadness and hurt and happiness and <em>devotion</em>.</p><p>He confronted Billy after school, pulling him into the alley next to the gym.</p><p>“I gotta talk to you, man.” Billy raised his eyebrows expectantly.</p><p>“Go ahead, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>“Look, I know you’re not gonna believe this, but, uh, I think you’re my soulmate?”</p><p>“I know you are.” Steve blinked.</p><p>“Wait you <em>know</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah. Felt it when I beat the shit outta you.”</p><p>“And you-you didn’t <em>say anything</em>?”</p><p>“Neither did you, Princess.”</p><p>“Okay, well, I’m saying something <em>now</em>. I just, I really like you. Like <em>a lot</em>. I wanna give this a shot between us. I mean, we’re like, <em>meant to be</em> and that shit, I think we should try.” Billy started laughing, pacing back and forth in front of Steve, who was delating a little more and more.</p><p>“Are you a fucking idiot?” Steve recoiled even more. “We can’t <em>give it a shot</em>. We’re both fuckin’ guys. You know what people in shitty small towns like things think about people like us? Think about <em>queers </em>like us? They think we’re fucking <em>garbage</em>, Harrington. The scum of the fuckin’ <em>Earth</em>. You feel what I feel? You feel when my dad <em>hits</em> me, just because he <em>thinks</em> I’m one. If he finds out that’s true, he’ll be after us both. It’s easier this way.” He turned to walk off, shaking his head. Steve caught his wrist.</p><p>“Bill, we can-I’m good at secrets. We can do this thing, not let anyone know. <em>Please</em> just give us a <em>shot</em>. I <em>know</em> you feel what I feel. I <em>know</em> it, Bill.” Steve’s eyes were big, made Billy’s stomach flare up. He tugged his arm, causing Steve to stumble forward into Billy’s space.</p><p>“Fine, Pretty Boy. We’ll give us a shot.” Steve smiled, pure and blinding. </p><p>They were gonna be okay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Prompt Fill: Steve in Drag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy could hear laughter from the bathroom. Robin’s uncontrollable chuckles mingling with Steve’s giggles. </p><p>“Baby? I’m home.” He dumped his jacket and bag by the front door, chucking his keys into the bowl on the side table. He looked at the floor of the hallway leading to the bathroom. “<b>Why is there glitter everywhere</b>?” </p><p>Robin came busting out of the bathroom, stopping in front of Billy, trying to control her laughter.</p><p>“We may have gotten drunk, and I may have put Steve in drag.” Her face was red, Bily didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or the giggling. The door to the bathroom opened, Steve in<em> full fucking drag </em>leaned against the doorframe. Billy’s jaw fucking dropped.</p><p>“<b>Take a picture, it’ll last longer</b>.” Steve was grinning like the cat that got the fucking cream, painted lips pulling tight over his teeth. </p><p>“<em> Fuck</em>, Steve.” Steve posed against the other doorway.</p><p>“Tell me about it, <em> stud </em>.” Robin cackled. Steve began sturting down the hallway, oddly confident in the tall heels. </p><p>“Where’d ya get all that stuff?” Billy took Steve’s hand, spinning him around under their arms.</p><p>“We may have gone to a thrift store. Or two.” He was in a pair of<em> very </em>short high-waisted denim shorts, and a light pink bodysuit that was smooth as silk, leaving his upper chest exposed, contoured and covered in glitter. The back was cut deeply, almost disappearing into the little shorts. Billy felt the bumps of Steve’s spine.</p><p>“Where’s your dick gone?”</p><p>“Oh, its taped in my asscrack right now.” Robin gave another cackle, moving to the kitchen to pour herself another drink. “My balls are literally <em> inside </em>my body.” Billy rubbed Steve’s sides through the delicate fabric.</p><p>“<b>This is, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done</b>.” Steve’s face fell. “How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off you with Robin in the other room.” Steve’s face was red under the foundation.</p><p>“We could always make her leave,” He murmured in Billy’s ear, Billy’s hands slipping into the back pockets of the little shorts.</p><p>“I can hear you, Dingus! You promised we’d go out tonight!” She yelled from the kitchen. “C’mon let’s go check out the new gay bar on 9th Ave!” Steve’s were big, and Billy could see his bottom lip beginning to pout.</p><p>“<em> Billy</em>,” He whined. “Will you<em> please </em>come out with us? It’s Saturday night!” Billy knew for a <em> fact </em>he was coming out the second Steve started in with the eyes, but he played it up, scrunching his face up.</p><p>“I don’t know, I had a very big night planned.” Steve’s lip began wobbling. </p><p>“Bill, <em> please </em>.” He was really pulling out all the stops, batting his big, fake eyelashes. Billy rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Okay, <em> fine</em>. I’ll come out.” Steve was practically vibrating, rushing over to Robin in the kitchen to pour out three shots.</p><p>“We gotta pregame! Bill, you gotta catch up with us!” Steve threw his back before legging it to their bedroom, his arms bent at the elbows near his little waist, wrists ticked up, fingers made longer by press-on nails, the same light pink shape as the bodysuit. “I’m gonna find you something to wear!” He called out. Robin poured two more shots. She was wearing a dark lace bralette, glitter on her chest. Her make up was shimmery but not heavy, her legs covered in fishnet tights and black denim shorts.</p><p>“How long you two been drinkin’?” She tossed her shot back and shrugged.</p><p>"We agreed to go out, so we started pregaming waiting for you, and then Steve started doing his makeup, just his usual<em> going out </em>face, and somehow I ended up putting him in full drag. It had to have been hours, I mean we literally went to the charity shops a few blocks over to find stuff for him.” Billy nodded, smirking. Steve came clomping back in.</p><p>“Go change, Bill, we’re goin’ out!” He began shoving Billy to the bedroom. Billy found some clothes tossed on the bed. He shook his head at Steve, at the choice of tight jeans and cut-up shirt, the sleeves ripped off and the bottom cut up just under Billy’s nipples. He changed and laughed at himself in the mirror.</p><p>“We couldn’t look gayer if we fuckin’ <em> tried</em>, you queers see that, right?” Steve just winked, slurping a cocktail through a metal straw. “Alright, let’s go out.” He sighed, taking one last shot as Steve and Robin cheered.</p><p>They each grabbed jackets, Robin wearing a chic oversized blazer, Steve slipping into Billy’s worn out leather jacket, the brown one he’s had since high school. Billy grabbing his denim one that was hung by the door.</p><p>Steve moved his hips more as he walked, practically sashaying ahead of them on the way to the bar.</p><p>“Christ, look at him, he’s feeling himself so hard right now.” Robing laughed, skipping up ahead with Steve, the two of them walking exaggeratedly and vogueing poorly. Billy filmed them for a few seconds, posting the video to his Instagram story. </p><p>The hot bartender ended up giving Steve free drinks, so Billy slammed him up against the bar and wildly made out with, glaring at the bartender when they broke apart. </p><p>By the time they got back to their little apartment, Steve’s lipstick was smeared, the glitter on his chest had rubbed onto Billy’s shirt, and Robin had ditched them to go home with a cute girl she made out with on the dance floor.</p><p>“Did you have fun tonight, Bill?” Steve had taken everything off, sliding into bed with Billy and curing up in his chest.</p><p>“Yeah, it was a good night.” He kissed the top of Steve’s head. “And you looked extra gorgeous tonight, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Steve beamed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Prompt Fill: Holidays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Billy stirred awake.</p><p>The sun was filtering softly through the window, the light had that beautiful cold quality it got in the early morning after a snowstorm. He lazily scrubbed a hand down his face, shifting his head over to be met with Steve staring at him, the blanket pulled up just under his nose. </p><p>“Morning, Baby.” Billy’s force was sleepy gruff. “How long you been awake?”</p><p>“Good morning, Bill. I have been watching you for like,” he looked at the clock on Billy’s nightstand. “An hour and a half.” Billy laughed, sliding his arms around Steve’s waist and pulling them together. Steve’s toes were cold.</p><p>“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Steve started squirming, Billy just held him tighter.</p><p>“I can’t sleep more! We gotta get up right now!” Billy laughed as Steve thrashed around, effectively trapped in by Billy’s limbs. “Bill! Lemme <em>go</em>!” Steve whined. Billy conceded, hauling Steve on top of him before relaxing slightly.</p><p>“What’ve we got to do today?” It was Christmas morning. BIlly had told Steve he didn’t want to do anything big. When Billy’s mom was still around, they would set up nativity scenes, bake cookies, string garland around a small tree. She would take him to Midnight Mass, stroking his hair and singing along to the music to him. </p><p>Once his mom left, his dad boxed up their Christmas decor, ignoring the holiday until Susan and Max came around, then it was all about showering Max with toys and dresses and things she secretly hated.</p><p>It was Billy and Steve’s first Christmas together, living in a tiny apartment away from their fathers. And Billy just wanted to stay in bed all day until Steve had to get up in the evening to light the next candle and say a few prayers. </p><p>“Bill, <em>no</em>!” He pushed up on Billy’s chest, grinning like an idiot. “Santa came for you.” Billy furrowed his brows.</p><p>“‘Do you mean?” Steve launched himself out of bed, tugging on Billy’s sweatshirt from the floor over his boxers before taking off to the living room, shouting <em>come see, Bill!</em> over his shoulder. Billy laughed and followed suit, shoving on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He slapped into the living room, stopping when he had seen what Steve had done.</p><p>There was a tree, a little one, strung with the lights that usually hung around the kitchen. Underneath were few gifts, wrapped in glittery red paper, big bows on top. There were two stockings on the wall, one red with puffy paint reading <em>Billy</em>, and one blue with the same white puff paint reading <em>Steve</em>. There were cookies and candy canes and chocolate coins, and Steve came out of the kitchen, toting two hot chocolates and a plate of latkas.</p><p>“Couldn’t let you have <em>all</em> the fun.” Billy was speechless. He blinked rapidly, trying not to let any tears fall.</p><p>“Stevie, what did you-how-I mean. <em>What is this</em>?” Steve smiled at him.</p><p>“It’s our first Christmas together, Bill.”</p><p>Billy hugged Steve to him. </p><p>“I thought I told you I didn’t want to do anything for Christmas, you don't even celebrate it! This is-<b>this it the opposite of what I told you to do</b>.” Steve just squeezed him tighter.</p><p>“You told me about how special Christmas was when you were a kid, and I want you to have that again.” Billy sniffed, burying his face into Steve’s shoulder.</p><p>“Thank you, Stevie. Thank you.” He pulled back, Steve was beaming at him. </p><p>“Open your presents!” He settled back into the couch, sipping hot chocolate. Billy dragged the first box out, a medium-sized one filled with books, horrors that Billy hadn’t read straight from the used book store down the road. The second, flatter box had three records, ones Billy had mentioned to Steve that his mom loved, The Beatles’ <em>White Album</em>, Fleetwood Mac’s <em>Rumours</em>, and <em>Strange Days</em>, the only album by The Doors that Billy didn’t own for his record player. He gave Steve kisses between every gift, trying to snuggle up to him on the couch when he thought there were no more. Steve popped up, going to the red stocking and digging inside for a small box.</p><p>“You have one more gift.” Steve was shifting around, fidgeting with the sweatshirt and the ends of his hair. “So, I wanted you to have really special Christmas memories. I know with your mom it was always nice but she left and then with your dad it was always shitty for you, and this is our first Christmas together, and this is <em>my </em>first Christmas <em>ever</em>, and I just wanna remember it.” He took a deep breath. “Bill, you are the love of my fucking life. I’ve never felt like I do with you, like I could take on the entire world by myself, but I don’t have to because you’ll always be there to do it with me. You are the most important person to me, and I want to spend forever with you.”</p><p>Billy’s heart dropped to his ass. Steve was holding out the small box, sitting on one knee, his big eyes shining.</p><p>“Bill, I wanna marry you. I know we can’t, because, like, homophobia. But, <b>it’s the thought that counts</b>. I want you, forever.” Billy was openly crying now. He took the box from Steve, opening it to reveal a simple silver band. Billy slid it on his finger and looked back at Steve, whose shoulders were tense.</p><p>“Of fucking course. You’re it for me, Pretty Boy.” Steve threw himself into Billy’s lap, kissing all over his face. They spent the rest of the day together in bed, until Billy joined Steve lighting the fourth candle, listening to Steve’s prayer in soft Hebrew. </p><p>Their lives were intertwining, faith and love and hurt and joy and sadness mixing together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Prompt Fill: These Boys are HORNY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve and Billy were making out in a janitors’ closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve had been wandering to class when a ringed hand shot out and dragged him into the small space. Billy shoved him against the door and kissed him hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy, mmh, Bill.” Steve tried to speak while Billy’s tongue was in his mouth. He finally succeeded in pushing Billy away, only for him to begin attacking his neck. “Bill, we can’t keep doin’ this. We’re gonna get caught.” Steve was breathless and Billy sucked and bit at his soft skin, no doubt leaving marks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>very quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Pretty Boy.” Billy brought their hips together, making Steve let out an involuntary whimper. “Shh, Stevie. You know I love those pretty noises, but </span>
  <b>this is the </b>
  <b>
    <em>opposite</em>
  </b>
  <b> of what I told you to do</b>
  <span>.” Billy was grinning, he loved riling Steve up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, please, let’s just, let’s just go to my house after school.” Steve was groaning between words, the fingers of one hand curling into Billy’s belt loops, his other hand clinging to Billy’s bicep for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Billy stepped away, leaving Steve gasping, hard in his jeans. He started gathering up his things, putting his jacket back on and picking up his bag. “See you after school then, Stevie.” He went to walk around Steve, who stood his ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaving</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Billy nodded. “But I’m, at least finish what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> started.” He gestured to his dick, trying to pull out some of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>King Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span> bravado, Billy just shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>You’re not very intimidating</b>
  <span>.” He leaned back into Steve’s space, who pressed himself further against the door. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>In fact</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I bet you’d do </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span> I told you.” Steve whimpered, his eyes big. Billy grabbed him and shoved him against a different wall, Steve was breathing heavily. “Maybe I’ll finish you off right here, you’ll have to go back to class squiring and fucked out, trying to focus on algebra and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the feeling of my cock up inside you.” Steve straight up </span>
  <em>
    <span>moaned</span>
  </em>
  <span> at that, his eyes fluttering closed. “Then again, </span>
  <b>maybe not</b>
  <span>.” Billy was off him and out the door in a flash, leaving Steve panting in the closet by himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asshole,” Steve grumbled as he tried to collect himself enough to leave the little room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Billy pulled up in front of Steve’s house, Steve was waiting for him on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, I’m home,” Billy sang like an idiot as he took off his boots by the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got a bone to pick with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I got a bone to put up in you.” Steve made a face as Billy came around the doorway, giggling at his own joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Bill. You can’t just get me goin’ at </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that and leave me hangin’.” Billy stalked towards Steve on the couch, settling his weight over him, Steve’s legs on either side of his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t I?” Billy started in on Steve’s neck again, darkening the marks he had left earlier. “I think you’ll find, Stevie, that I can do anything I want, and you’ll never say anything to stop me.” Steve had a hand in Billy’s hair, and another up under his shirt, feeling the smooth skin drawn over tight muscle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I can never say no to you.” Steve didn’t know if that was really a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing, since Billy was pretty fuckin’ good at making Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty fuckin’ good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Well, I </b>
  <b>
    <em>am</em>
  </b>
  <b> pretty irresistible</b>
  <span>.” Billy sank his hands under Steve’s body, pulling him up as Billy stood. “Shall we take this upstairs, Pretty Boy?” He purred, already walking as he held Steve up. Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Billy could heft him about like he weighed nothing. Billy knew this and picked Steve up </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> every chance he got. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy stomped up the stairs, kicking Steve’s door closed behind them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Anon: Soft Boys in Bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No, see. Look how crooked they are.” Steve was holding his hands up, in front of their faces. His middle fingers were crooked at the top knuckle, each leaning towards his ring fingers, his pinky fingers stuck out far to the sides. He was laying on Billy, his head resting on Billy’s firm chest, Billy’s arms around Steve, hands resting on his soft stomach.</p><p>“I never said they weren’t crooked, I just said I think they’re cute regardless.”</p><p>“You can’t just say things are cute, just because they are attached to me.”</p><p>“And why not?”</p><p>“Because, sometimes my things are weird, like my ugly crooked fingers.” Billy took one hand off Steve’s stomach, bringing it out from under the covers, taking one of Steve’s hands.</p><p>“I don’t think these hands are ugly. I like these hands.” He pressed a kiss to his fingers. “I like these crooked fingers. I like when these crooked fingers run through my hair, when these crooked fingers scrape down my back. I like coming home to see these crooked fingers inside yourself, making room for me. I like holding these crooked fingers with mine.” He kissed each finger, Steve flushed a deep red. “I don’t love them just because they’re attached to you, although that is a pretty good thing to be attached to.” He squished Steve’s stomach a little bit, feeling it tense up as he giggled.</p><p>“Okay, fine. You convinced me. You’re allowed to love my fingers, I guess.” Steve sighed, content. “Didn’t know you felt so strongly about my little fingees, though.”</p><p>“They’re pretty good fingees, Stevie.” Steve settled back further into Billy, still holding hands as they lay together.</p><p>“What else do you love about me?” Sometimes Steve needed reassurance, sometimes Billy just liked being affectionate.</p><p>“Well, I like your hands. I like that they’re delicate, longer than mine. They’re pretty, ‘cause everything about you is pretty. I love those little dimples in your back, love puttin’ my own fingers right in ‘em. Love your ass, but you know that. Love how long your legs are, your thighs are just perfect for biting.”</p><p>“Yeah, and you do it all the time.”</p><p>“I’m a simple man, I see a nice thigh, I chomp.”</p><p>“Well, I love your hands. I love that they’re rough, and I love that you wear lots of rings on ‘em. I love when you touch me with ‘em, manhandle me. I love how strong you are, you can lift me like it’s nothin’. You’re really good too, Bill. I love how good you are to me, that you let me love you all the time.”</p><p>“Baby, I’ve never loved anything, like I love you.</p><p>“I love you more than the whole world, Bill. I mean, you are my whole world.”</p><p>They were warm under the covers, wrapped up in one another with nothing else to do, nowhere else to be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Anon: Mastema the Bunny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"also, i have a headcanon that steve really really wants a pet because he’s always left alone and he gets lonely when billy leaves but his mom won’t let him get any of the normal ones, dog are too messy, she’s allergic to cats and doesn’t want to be sneezing when she is home, and she doesn’t believe steve will remember to feed fish. So Steve gets upset and tells Billy gets mad about it, saying that it shouldn’t matter if they are never home and that they should trust Steve (pt.1)<br/>(pt.2) and steve is trying to calm down Billy because he’s weirdly upset about it, but Billy won’t calm down he just gets super pissed and keeps yelling about how if they are gonna neglect their son they should at least let him get a pet so he isn’t lonely. Steve finally manages to calm him down but Billy already has a plan. The next time he shows up he has a huge bag of food, a large cage, some gates and a little black and white bunny</p><p>(pt.3) So Steve totally melts and maybe starts crying or something because the bunny is so cute and billy is so nice, and he keeps asking him questions and billy just says “i know people” and steve is just gonna take it, and he tries to name it oreo or something basic and billy won’t let him so the bunny ends up with a weird edgy name and Steve doesn’t even mind and when steve’s parents comes home billy picks up the bunny and takes it to his place so steve doesn’t get in trouble"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve <em>begging</em> his parents for a puppy every single year for his birthday, like he whines and pouts and throws fucking <em>tantrums</em> and it’s always <em>Steven you’re not proving to us that you’re responsible enough for a pet</em>. So instead he just hangs out at Tommy’s place, since they have this big gorgeous golden retriever and Steve will just sit there for <em>hours</em> brushing through all the fur. Tommy jokes that Steve likes the dog more than him.</p><p>So when Steve and Tommy fought, Steve stopped getting his doggy outlet. So one night, he and Billy are together and Steve starts going off about how his parents never thought he was <em>responsible enough for an animal</em> or how his mom wouldn’t let him get a cat since she was allergic, and it’s not like she was <em>even here most of the time</em>. And billy is just <em>seething</em>. These assholes leave Steve <em>alone</em> in this giant fucking house all the time, but won’t even let him have a fucking <em>fish</em>, because Steve is actually <em>really fucking good</em> at taking care of things, always makes sure the kids have eaten and checks in with that soft voice of his and makes sure they're safe and makes sure Billy’s happy, and it just goes to show hoe Steve’s parents know fucking <em>nothing</em> about him. Steve is weirded out by how hard Billy is taking this information. <em>It’s okay Bill, because now I have you to keep me company while they’re gone</em> and Billy rolls over Steve and they fuck it out <em>again</em> but Billy makes up his mind.</p><p>He drives two hours to Indianapolis, to the nearest pet shop he could find, and buys hay and food and little houses and a nice pen and a sweet little bunny. It was black but had little white patches around its little wiggly bum. It had tufts of fur on the top of its head that were longer than the rest, so billy saw it with its cute shaggy hair and thought <em>Stevie</em>.</p><p>So he comes to Steve’s place with the little thing in a box on his lap. And he pulls the bunny out of the box and its nose is twitching and Steve <em>cries</em> and holds the thing to him and coos at it and kisses Billy all over his face. He looks at the bunny and says <em>He looks like an oreo, that’s what I should call him! Oreo! </em>And Billy puts his foot down and they go back and forth with names for a while until Steve throws out Mastema, explaining that Mastema is to Judaism what Satan is to Christianity, The Adversary. The Hebrew name translates to ‘hatred’ or ‘hostility’ and Mastema worked under God, carrying out orders of punishments and acts of temptation.</p><p>Billy was fucking <em>sold</em>. So they take this sweet little thing, name it after The Chief of Spirits and let it wander through the little pen set up in a corner of Steve’s bedroom.</p><p>Every time they have sex, Steve <em>insists</em> on moving the bunny to a safe location out of the room, or carefully covering the pen with a blanket because <em>I don’t want him to see us doing it, he’s our son and we’ll scar him, Bill.</em></p><p>It takes two months for Steve’s parents to come home after Mastema moved in. So they are trying to figure out what to do with it. Robin won’t take it, and Steve doesn’t trust Dustin’s cat Tews <em>not</em> to eat the little thing, so somehow Billy ends up with it taking up the floor of his closet. He and max sit in his room when Neil is gone, playing with the little bunny.</p><p>The kids start coming over almost every day to see the little thing. Steve will put up blocks in the dining room doorways and let Mastema explore. There’s no furniture in there he could get trapped under, so they let him loose, luring him with treats and small chunks of apples.</p><p>When Billy and Steve finally pack up the Camaro and hit the open road, Mastema spends most of the drive wriggling around in Steve’s lap.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Prompt Fill: Concussed Steve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve’s head was pounding. He was sitting in the ambulance, the EMTs shining lights in his eyes, tracking his reactions. Billy was sat next to him, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.</p><p>The kids had succeeded in burning the thing out of him in the sauna, he ended up coming for Robin and Steve, breaking them out of the Russian base with Dustin and Erica.</p><p>“You definitely have a concussion.” The EMT clicked the light off, writing something for Steve on a piece of paper, handing it over. “These are some instructions on how to deal with it, if you sleep tonight, someone has to wake you up every hour to make sure you <em>can</em> wake up. Do you have someone that can do that for you?” She gave Steve a bored look. He opened his mouth but was cut off.</p><p>“I can do that, I’ll be there for him.” Billy placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, rubbing gently.</p><p>“Sure. Make sure he drinks water, no loud music or watching any television.” She clicked her pan, moving to check on Robin.</p><p>“You up for some company, Pretty Boy? Keep you up?” Billy smirked, tongue between his teeth. Steve had gotten used to Billy throwing around innuendo in their few months of friendship, but his developing <em>feelings</em> for Billy, really made the jokes give him fucking <em>whiplash</em>.</p><p>Billy drove him home, helping Steve up the stairs even though he <em>insisted</em> he didn’t need help.</p><p>“Can it, Pretty Boy.”</p><p>Billy deposited Steve on his bed, yanking the little sailor top off of him, using it to wipe some fresh blood off his face, depositing it in the trash. He went for Steve’s belt and he jolted, batting his hand away.</p><p>“I don’t need-I can do that, Bill.”</p><p>“Steve, I’ve seen you naked like, a buncha times. It’s fine.”</p><p>“No it’s just, I’ll get those. It’s fine.” He stood up, having to sit back down again when he immediately became dizzy, Billy taking by the arms and placing him down, flat to the bed. He went for Steve’s belt, yanking the shorts down, pulling his sock with them.</p><p>Steve was <em>mortified</em>. He knew <em>Billy</em> didn’t care about seeing Steve naked, that was kinda the fucking <em>problem</em>.</p><p>“Stevie, <b>are you…blushing</b>?” Steve could <em>hear</em> the smirk in Billy’s voice. He covered his face, feeling the red spread down his chest.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, I’m laying here, naked and concussed and I just wanna go to <em>sleep</em>.”</p><p>“Well, I have clean clothes right here for you, but you gotta sit up.” Every time Steve moved his head pounded behind his eyes and the world <em>spun</em>.</p><p>“I can’t, I can’t sit up.”</p><p>“Here, Stevie. <b>Take my hand</b>.” Steve flopped his hand in the air a few times, Billy laughed and took his hand, pulling him up. Steve slumped his sore head against Billy’s shoulder as he manhandled clothes onto him.</p><p>“Okay, Sweet Thing, you can sleep now.” He pulled Steve up further along the bed, tucking him in gently. “I’ll wake you up in an hour. Sleep.” Steve didn’t need telling twice and konked out quickly.</p><p>An hour later, Billy was shaking him softly.</p><p>“Harrington, Baby wake up.”</p><p>“<em>No, Bill</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, now what’s the date? What’s your name? Who’s the president?”</p><p>“It’s July 5th. 1985. My name is Steven Alexander Harrington, and fuckin’ Reagan.”</p><p>“What’s your <em>real</em> name. I want that sexy Italian.” Steve didn’t even <em>register</em> Billy saying anything about him was <em>sexy</em>.</p><p>“Stefano Alessandro Harrington, now let me SLEEP.”</p><p>“You gotta stay awake for a few minutes.” Steve whined, the pain in his head was <em>excruciating</em> now that the pain killers the EMT had given him had begun to wear off. “I got you some water and I went through your parents’ medicine cabinet, I think I found some of your mom’s Vicodin.” Steve only whimpered, trying to roll into the pillow. “<b>I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake</b>. Do you want, would it help if I read to you?”</p><p>“Yes.” He could barely muster the whisper before Billy was out of bed, digging around on Steve’s desk for one of the books he had left.</p><p>“Um, all I could find is <em>The Shining</em>, is that just gonna freak you out?” Billy had to hold Steve up for him to drink the water and swallow the pill. Billy had practically fed him both things, being <em>so </em>careful and gentle with Steve. “Try to sleep now Pretty Boy, I think you’ve been up for long enough. I’ll get you in an hour.</p><p>Steve just hummed in agreement and let Billy thread a hand into his hair, reading out with a hushed voice, lulling Steve off almost immediately.</p>
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<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Anon: Steve Can't Dress Himself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so due to quarantine ive had nothing to do but think of hc so here is one of my favorites! Steve hates shopping for clothes, he gets really stressed out and doesn’t know what his style really is so he tries to find stuff that he likes but he freaks out even more because sure that’s a nice jacket but does he have anything to wear it with? It’s even worse with friends, if they want to go to the mall to shop because even tho he has the money he just doesn’t know what to do with with (pt.1)</p><p>(pt.2) it’s n  it like it’s a huge problem, he has plenty of clothes, and it’s not like his mom doesn’t come back from a trip with some random expensive sweaters and shirts and whatever she thought would look nice on him, but when he actually has to go shopping he just feels weird and out of place, clothing stores just make him feel weirdly lonely and stupid because while everyone else seems to find cool stuff and be able to match it he’s just there confused   </p><p>(pt.3) So one time the whole group is out shopping and steve is just kinda clinging to robin making it seem like he doesn’t want anything or need anything, eventually Billy goes over to hang out with the two and steve seems off, he’s kinda jumpy and looks uncomfortable, so he suggests they go somewhere else, assuming someone in the store was making steve few weird, when they end up in another clothing store and steve seems just as off billy finally starts to put it together...                    </p><p>(pt.4) When they leave the mall steve seems suddenly a lot better, he drops off robin and nancy, and Billy and him head back to his place (or billy’s apartment which ever one is better) and billy asks him what was wrong and steve just kind of laughs it off with a “huh? nothing i’m fine” but billy keeps pressing and when steve finally explains, feeling stupid because it’s not a big deal, billy just gets kind of soft...             </p><p>(pt.5) so from then one when billy sees steve standing in front of his closet looking stressed out and confused he’ll either help him find an outfit or throw him one of his own shirts and Steve just smiles and thanks him softly and it’s all good (was his totally me just forcing my fear of shopping on steve? yes! and also sorry it was so long haha!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It all started when Steve was little. His mom would drag him to expensive clothing stores, designer outlets, name brand places. She would throw clothes at him to try on, cooing over how cute he looked in stuffy little outfits. </p><p>He never shopped for himself, and almost everything that was bought for him was bought in sets, outfits he didn’t have to think twice about putting together, that shirt was bought with <em>those</em> pants and <em>that </em>jacket, so he put them on and <em>bam</em>, outfit. </p><p>Once he started working at the mall, he <em>hated</em> the stupid Scoops uniform, but it was a clear outfit, and he never <em>really</em> had to be seen wearing anything else (plus Billy <em>loved</em> when Steve wore it, <em>loved</em> taking the thing <em>off</em> him).</p><p>But working at the mall meant the kids wanted to <em>hang out</em> at the mall, meant the kids wanted to <em>go shopping</em> at the mall, meant the kids would try things on, ask Steve <em>what do you think of this?</em> and Steve would panic because, <em>what THE FUCK do you even SAY about clothes?</em></p><p>Billy can spot Steve’s anxiety from a mile away, knows when he needs to get <em>out</em>. So he got the brats outta there, helped Steve drop ‘em off all over town, got Steve back home.</p><p>He was <em>better</em> but he still wasn’t <em>Steve</em>, he was quiet, subdued.</p><p>So he presses, keeps asking, keeps asking, keeps asking, keeps asking, keeps aski-</p><p>“Because I don’t <em>get it</em>! I don’t get <em>fashion</em> or <em>style</em> and going shopping with people like <em>you</em> and <em>Robin</em>, and even the fucking <em>kids</em>, who can look at stuff, and put things together, and they have like, individual style and know what looks <em>good</em>, and I just fucking wear what my <em>mom</em> picks out and it makes me feel fucking <em>stupid</em>, Bill.”</p><p>So Billy holds him close, soothes him and tells him he’s not stupid, and goes into Steve’s big closet, and starts explaining things, explaining that green looks good on him because of his olive undertones, that he should stay away from bright yellows, oranges, they’ll wash him out. That blue is nice with his pale skin, makes his eyes pop. He goes through jeans, tells him that the Levi 510 fit is best for him, the leg is skinnier, makes his look longer. The jeans sitting his waist, makes his ass look good. Steve sits on the floor with him, listening to <em>everything</em> he’s saying with rapt attention.</p><p>And the next time he’s standing in front of his closet, looking lost at the expensive cashmere sweaters and designer polo shirts, Billy just takes pity on him, and throws him a soft shirt of his own, tells him to put it with one of his Members Only Jackets. But Steve’ll find a pair of shoes for it, and give Billy a soft smile, and sometimes he’ll pick out a whole outfit <em>by himself</em> and Billy will have to suppress a laugh at how much he sounds like a <em>toddler</em> who just learned who to dress but it’s so <em>cute </em>and Billy just <em>loves him</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Anon: California</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Billy takes Steve to see the beach, because although his parents travel a lot they never took him to see the sea, they never took him anywhere."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve’s parents would leave him at home while they set off around the world, he was nineteen years old and he had never left the stat of Indiana, hadn’t gone much farther than a few hours outside of the town he was born in. Billy hadn’t traveled much outside the state of California, until he spent three days driving across the country and saw, only the best of America, Illinois, Nebraska, <em>Utah</em>. Stopped with Max and only the <em>finest</em> truck stops, saw a lot of the plains, the rocky mountains, the shit deserts of Nevada.</p><p>But still, <em>technically</em> speaking, he was <em>much</em> more well-traveled than Steve, who would lie in bed and ask him about the places he’s been, ask him what mountains looked like, what the dry desert air felt like, what the ocean <em>tasted</em> like.</p><p>So for his birthday, Billy presented him with a plan, a map on which he had drawn a route, a route to Southern California where Billy was born and raised, stopping off in several states in between, budgeting three weeks and plenty of cash. Steve hugged him, tears in his eyes as the December snow fell around them.</p><p>They didn’t go until summer, late May after Billy graduated high school. They packed the Camaro, took a wad of cash and several rolls of film and set off. They made their way slowly, stopping at stupid tourist traps and taking silly pictures of one another in roadside shops. </p><p>They made it to San Diego in six days, checking into a motel, Steve going in by himself to request a single bed, they had been taking turns going in, never wanting to be seen together, never wanting to invite hate into their happy little bubble. </p><p>So they check in, ditch their bags, and they make to the beach, Billy vibrating out of his skin to be back, Steve <em>floored </em>by the beauty of the ocean, the sand between his toes. </p><p>They rushed off to the water, laughing and whooping. Billy picked Steve up around the middle, throwing him deeper into the waves, laughing as Steve shrieked, flying through the air with no grace. </p><p>Billy’s eyes were shining in the golden sun, and Steve’s skin was stinging from hitting the water, but everything smelled like sunscreen and salt and Billy’s hair was wild form the ocean, and Steve has never been in so in <em>love</em> and they spent nine days in San Diego, nine days of kissing lazily on the beach as the sunset, nine days of spending nights wrapped up in one another in their shitty motel room, spent days walking along the beach, soaking up the sun and the sand and <em>one another</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Headcanon: Non-Binary Steve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anon:  "what do you think about a crossdressing Steve? Maybe he started just liking the soft fabrics of his mom's clothes but then he started wearing them as a way to attempt to hold on to the feigned affection she gave him. Eventually he just got his own stuff because they helped him feel calmer, softer. He would only ever put them on when he believed he would be alone for a while to cook or do chores... And then one day Billy comes over. Do with it what you will."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/>A/N: So, maybe you wanted smut, but non-binary femme presenting Steve is a ridiculously big headcanon I have that I have talked about with several folks and will be included in the next big fic I roll out, so this is some Soft Shit bc I wanted an excuse to write Steve as non-binary femme presenting.</p><p>This exact kinda character study of sorts has actually been in my drafts for like, a month, so I’ve incorporated some of it into this. It's modern, and there is some language that may be harmful, so PLEASE be careful with yourselves, no slurs or anything along those lines, just ignorant stuff. Also, this really went off the rails at the end, I’m Sorry.</p><p>Thank you for sending an ask!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Steve was a little kid, he always preferred playing with the girls. </p><p>They would have clothes for dress-up, princess dresses, and pirate costumes, anything <em>any</em> child could want. They had wigs, makeup, crowns. Little girls also had babydolls, little pretend kitchens he would play in, plastic baby bouncing at his hip. </p><p>When his nanny would come to pick him up from Carol’s house, she would have wipes in the car, to clean off his face. <em>Your father will be </em>very disappointed<em> if he sees you playing with girls’ things again, Steven.</em> He learned very quickly that playing dress-up, wanting to be <em>Mommy</em> when playing house, those are <em>not</em> things little <em>boys</em> did. </p><p>He remembers fighting with his parents, when they found the little plastic case of goopy lipglosses Carol had let him keep. He was seven years old and was crying, had <em>screamed</em> as loud as he could that if little boys weren’t allowed to play with makeup, then <em>maybe I don’t want to </em>be<em> a boy</em>. </p><p>When his parents started leaving him more often, their absences growing longer the older he got, he began going into his mother’s things, trying on her clothes. He was twelve when he first learned that women’s clothes were made of finer materials, were softer, felt like <em>butter</em> against his skin. He was thirteen and would slip into designer dresses each night, learning makeup from YouTube tutorials, practicing with things left in his mother’s vanity and whatever he could discreetly put in his pockets at Meldvald’s.</p><p>He got pretty good. Good enough that at sixteen, he wanted <em>more</em>, would go to stores in Indianapolis, would spend his allowance on dresses, skirts, blouses, frilly little things that <em>fit</em>, that made him feel <em>good</em>, <em>correct</em>. </p><p>The first time he put on a pair of lacy panties, he almost cried. the material was soft, the cotton tight and nice against him, the delicate lace trimming the waist and legs was <em>pretty</em>. Steve realized, all he <em>ever</em> wants to be in his life is <em>pretty</em>.</p><p>He began thinking of himself as a girl, a <em>young woman</em>. He would tuck his dick back, make the space between his legs flat, let his hair grow out more, long enough to braid, to pin with floral clips. </p><p>He started dressing up, going out. Finding bars that would let him in if he batted his false eyelashes <em>just so</em>, would overlook his <em>obviously</em> <em>fake</em> I.D. so that he could go in, talk to men that were too old for him, too interested in his doe eyes, his soft cheeks, men that would buy him drinks, fuck him in the back seats of their cars, whisper about how <em>pretty</em> he looked, men that would touch his cock and coo that his <em>pussy was so tight.<br/>
</em></p><p>He found he didn’t like <em>that</em> but would grit his teeth, didn’t understand <em>why</em> wearing women’s clothes felt so <em>right</em> but the idea of <em>having</em> a women’s body felt <em>wrong</em>. He didn’t <em>get</em> why he felt the most himself, the most <em>comfortable</em> with his dick tucked up in lace panties, but the <em>minute</em> a man told him he was <em>a good girl</em> he felt sick.  </p><p>When he was seventeen, he stopped going out, stopped <em>dressing up</em>. He had Nancy now, a beautiful young woman who wanted a nice, regular young <em>man</em>. He almost told her, almost told her <em>so many times</em>, but then she was drunk, slurring in his face that he was <em>bullshit</em>, that he was <em>fake</em>, like he didn’t already <em>know</em>. </p><p>So he kept to himself, started dressing up again, putting on a full face, a delicate outfit the <em>minute</em> he got home. He would dance around while cooking diner, would float around the house in heels and sweeping dresses. They made him feel <em>better</em>, feel <em>good</em>. He would dress up on <em>particularly </em>bad days, would wear his most beautiful pieces when he got poor grades, when his father told him he was a disappointment over the phone. He had been informed today by his English teacher she had assigned him a <em>tutor</em>.</p><p>So he had blinked back tears while blending eyeshadow, had put on his prettiest dress, a pretty dark green number, the fabric light, delicate <em>feminine</em>. He was ready to wallow in self-pity and makeup when there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of his something-like-a-friend Billy Hargrove, announcing with a laugh that <em>you should REALLY start lockin’ your front door, Harrington. Wouldn’t want someone UNSAVORY comin’ in</em>.</p><p>Steve was <em>frozen</em> in the kitchen, his best-kept secret all over his face, his body. Billy didn’t even blink twice when he saw Steve, asked <em>what’s cookin’?</em> while leaning over the stove. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, breathing fast when Billy looked back, took Steve’s shoulder lightly in his hands said,<em> you need to breathe, Sweet Thing, take it slow, match me</em>. He rubbed gently down Steve’s arms, his eyes clear blue when Steve was able to open his own teary ones.</p><p>“Billy, you need to <em>swear</em> to me you won’t tell, you, I, people can’t <em>know</em>. They’ll, I mean, I <em>know</em> I’m a fucking <em>freak</em> but no one-”</p><p>“Whoa, who said you’re a <em>freak</em>?” Billy’s eyes were sharp.</p><p>“<em>Look</em> at me, Billy. I’m, I don’t know <em>what</em> I am. Sometimes, sometimes I wish that I was a <em>girl, </em>but, but something about that feels just, <em>bad</em>, but, but being a fucking <em>boy</em> feels like shit <em>too</em>, and I just,” he was sobbing, loudly and openly, knew his dark liner was no doubt <em>streaming</em> down his face.</p><p>“Hey, that’s okay, Honey, you don’t <em>have to </em>know. You just have to feel <em>good</em>.” He led Steve in a few more breaths. “It’s not black and white, you don’t have to be one or the other. You can just be <em>you</em>. Can be <em>Steve</em>, if you want.”</p><p>“What-I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Well, you don’t feel <em>right</em> as a boy, but you feel just as <em>not right</em> as a girl. There’s more than that. You have more <em>options</em>.” He turned off the stove, led Steve to his bag, whipping out a laptop covered in worn stickers. “So basically, there’re a whole bunch of genders.” He pulled up an infographic on his screen, a color-coded mess of columns and descriptions. “There’s <em>way</em> more than man and woman. There are people who are non-binary, don’t adhere to the idea of two genders. Sometimes non-binary people identify as another gender, a <em>third</em> gender, sometimes they identify as a mixture of identities. Agender people often identify as having <em>no</em> gender at all. genderfluid people tend to fluctuate between identities, can feel agender one day, the next feel like a man, it <em>all depends on the person</em>.” He looked at Steve, hand gentle on his arm. “And none of it’s <em>wrong</em>. There’s no <em>correct way</em> to be a human. And they each are up to interpretation. There are people who identify as agender but <em>choose</em> to present a certain way, there are people who identify as male but <em>choose</em> to present androgynous, there’s no <em>one way</em> to do it.”</p><p>“So if I, if I feel good like <em>this</em>,” Steve gestured to the dress, the smeared makeup. “I can still be, a <em>guy</em>, like I can just be a guy that likes to <em>look like</em> a girl.”</p><p>“If that feels <em>best</em> to you. Like I said, you don’t <em>have to  </em>be a guy, just because that’s what you were assigned at birth.”</p><p>“What do you mean? ‘Assigned at birth’?”</p><p>“That means the gender that’s on your birth certificate. It’s just a better way of saying like, <em>male-bodied</em>, since that can be, kinda shitty for people<em>. </em>And like, what even <em>is</em> a male body, you know?”</p><p>“You’re getting a little introspective for me here, Bill.”</p><p>“Basically, just because you were born with a dick and a doctor was like, <em>it’s a boy</em>, doesn’t mean you have to be a boy that <em>likes looking like a girl</em>, or whatever you said. That’s a <em>perfectly valid way to b</em>e, a femme presenting guy, don’t get me wrong, but earlier you said you <em>didn’t</em> feel <em>right</em> as a boy, and I just don’t want you to back yourself into a corner.” Steve blinked.</p><p>“Yeah, I think, I think you’re right. I don’t, I’m <em>not</em> a guy. I don’t think.”</p><p>“You <em>do not</em> have to know right now. You literally <em>just</em> learned about this, you don’t have to like<em> immediately</em> make a choice. Take some time. Try different labels, try different pronouns, try <em>no</em> labels, see what feels <em>best</em>.” He smiled, looking at Steve softly. “If you want to, I can, like, <em>help you</em>. If you, if you think of something you want to try, it may be nice to, like, hear it from someone else.”</p><p>“What was, what was the one that was like, sometimes people identify as like, <em>another</em> gender?” Billy typed away, pulling up a new article.</p><p>“I <em>think</em> you mean non-binary. It’s more of an <em>umbrella term </em>to some people, they find more leeway in it.” He scrolled down, pointing at a list of pronouns. “So, some people who identify as non-binary also use alternative pronouns, things like they or ze, which is a way for them to be referred to outside of the gender binary.” Steve’s mind was <em>racing</em>. He tested the words on his tongue, thinking <em>ze, sie, hir</em> to himself, to, <em>themself?</em></p><p>“But if I identify, as, as <em>non-binary</em>, or something, can I still, like, <em>dress</em> like this?”</p><p>“Of course. Identity and expression are two different things. To some, they go hand-in-hand, but to others, they can be <em>totally</em> separate.”</p><p>“I think, as of <em>right now</em> I think non-binary is okay.” Billy beamed.</p><p>“Okay! You don’t have to <em>decide</em> right now, and some folks <em>never </em>decide, they spend their lives flowing through different ways to identify and express themselves, and <em>again</em>, that’s totally fuckin’ <em>okay</em>. Nothing has to magically click into place for you. You can experiment.”</p><p>“Can I, can <em>we</em> experiment with, with <em>they</em>. I kinda, it kinda makes <em>sense</em>.” Billy just kept grinning, his smile huge and beautiful.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, I can do that.” But his face fell, “But I, I mean, this is fuckin’ <em>Hawkins</em>, and I don't’ know, I mean, is it, like <em>safe</em>?” Steve felt like their heart was breaking.</p><p>“No, it’s, I don’t <em>think</em> it is, I mean, there haven’t been like <em>incidents</em> but also, we don’t have a lot of people that are, like, openly <em>different</em>.” Billy’s brow was drawn.</p><p>“I can, I can call you whatever you want just the two of us, but, I don’t want to like, <em>out</em> you-”</p><p>“You can, you can say <em>he</em> was it’s, when it’s other people. I don’t, I don’t want this to get back to my dad, or anything.” Billy’s eyes were <em>sharp</em>.</p><p>“I can do that, I can protect you, like that.” He was nodding vigorously. “I just, I wanted to be on the same <em>page</em>, didn’t want to be like <em>misgendering</em> you behind your back and make you feel like <em>shit</em>.”</p><p>“You have my express permission to, uh, <em>misgender</em> me, or whatever you just said.” Steve sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I just gotta get outta this fuckin’ <em>town</em>, man. Then I’ll be <em>good</em>. Live my little queer life outside of the shitty bar outside of town.” Billy laughed.</p><p>“You <em>go </em>there?”</p><p>“I used to, when I was first kinda, questioning myself. Used to let guys fuck me and call me, like, their <em>pretty little slut </em>or whatever. Not my finest moments.”</p><p>“<em>Christ</em>, Stevie. That’s some <em>deep shit</em>. I went <em>once</em> when I first got into town, and some guy was like, <em>I wanna hear you screaming ‘Daddy’ for me</em> and I was like, nope. No thank you to That.” Steve laughed with him.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I <em>did</em> let that guy fuck me. Bily groaned.</p><p>“Stevie, <em>no</em>. Don’t call random men <em>Daddy</em>.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna lie to you, Bill, I got a <em>lot</em> of daddy issues.”</p><p>“Yeah, me too, but not <em>that </em>many.”</p><p>“Just enough to be <em>called</em> Daddy, then?” Billy went <em>red</em>, dropped his eyes from Steve as they cackled. “Hit the nail on the <em>fuckin’</em> head then, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Whatever, you little asshole. Let’s just fuckin’ get on with your English homework that <em>is </em>why I’m here after all. Go grab your books.” Steve grinned, leaning in close to Billy.</p><p>“Okay, <em>Daddy</em>,” they <em>purred</em>, racing off up the stairs laughing loudly, hearing Billy cursing them out from the kitchen.</p>
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<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Anon: Dyslexic Steve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anonymous  asked:</p><p>Okaaayy yes but Steve has severe dyslexia and he gets so frustrated when he and Billy are working on homework together because Billy will be done with the assignment before Steve even gets three pages in and Steve’s getting angry and he has a headache and he’s tired and feels like an idiot but Billy is the most comforting bf EVER</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Steve a <em>very</em> long time to learn to read.</p><p>He didn’t begin until <em>well</em> past many other children did. He learned from a <em>very </em>young age what his big brown eyes could do. If he unleashed them in an unsuspecting nanny, he would always be <em>read to</em>, and could avoid wading through the gibberish another day.</p><p>It wasn’t until he reached Kindergarten someone noticed something. </p><p>Steve was okay with his alphabets, would sometimes get letters backwards, but overall, he did <em>fine</em>. His chubby five-year old hands were a little clunky around a pencil, but when the teacher, Ms. Green, upgraded from individual letters to everyday words, she started noticing certain <em>things</em>. </p><p>He would scrunch his eyebrows at double consonants, words like <em>button</em>, <em>balloon</em>, <em>alligator</em> would make him huff.</p><p>When they moved on to phrases the <em>true</em> problem presented itself. </p><p>He would write words incorrectly, words like <em>of</em> and <em>to</em> were never quite right, and no matter how <em>much</em> she calmly explained the rules of a silent ‘e’, he just couldn’t <em>get it</em>. </p><p>She called his parents in for a meeting, sitting them down with the head of special education at Hawkins Elementary, Mrs. Collier. She handled them Steve’s work, examples of scrambled letters. Mrs. Collier produced pamphlets, threw around words like <em>dyslexia</em>, <em>dysgraphia</em>, <em>learning disability</em>. </p><p>Mr. Harrington was <em>livid</em>. He told them <em>repeatedly</em> he would not allow them to test Steven, that he just needed to focus, work <em>harder</em>. Ms. Green raised an eyebrow, said <em>Steve’s </em>five<em>, he’s working as hard as he can, if we can test him to confirm, he could work </em>easier<em>.</em></p><p>Mr. Harrington had left in a huff, refusing to sign the paperwork consenting the school to test Steve, muttering all the way about <em>no son of mine’s retarded</em>.</p><p>Ms. Green exchanged a look with Mrs. Collier and the two women worked out a <em>plan</em>. </p><p>This Plan was handed from teacher to teacher as Steve progressed through Hawkins elementary. Mrs. Collier began each school year by explaining the <em>situation</em> to the teacher, working with them to create accommodations for Steve that wouldn’t get back to Mr. Harrington, his assignments were often printed larger, reading assignments were handed to him pre-annotated, sometimes deadlines were extended.</p><p>The Plan followed him to Hawkins Middle.</p><p>In seventh grade, he asked his English teacher about the accommodations, why his assignments were often due a week later, how he was <em>encouraged</em> to stay after his tests, take extra time and head off late to his next class with a note explaining he had an exam. </p><p>“When you were in kindergarten, your teacher wanted to have you tested for dyslexia. Your father wouldn’t allow it, so before every school year each of your teachers meets with Mrs. Collier, head of Special Education at Hawkins Elementary and we work out accommodations for you.”</p><p>Steve felt like he could <em>cry</em>. His <em>father</em> had always been hard on him, been vocal about how <em>disappointing</em> Steve was, <em>is</em>. He nodded at him, speeding out of the room to Social Studies, where he noticed his packet was at least two pages longer than anyone else’s, the font size large.</p><p>High school was much the same. His essays had three separate deadlines, he would meet with the teachers, would discuss alterations he could make to improve it.</p><p>He was assigned note takers in each class, a peer whose notes the teacher would xerox for him in case his own got <em>messy</em>. </p><p>When he started slipping, <em>struggling</em>, he would have peer tutors, kids in his class he would meet with in the library.</p><p>Senior year was the <em>worst</em>. He was struggling more than ever before. His father had doubled down since he didn’t get into college, would pretty much <em>only</em> talk to him to call him an idiot. </p><p>He was meeting Billy Hargrove almost everyday after school getting help with his Algebra. Yeah, <em>algebra. </em>He was a senior, in a class full of <em>sophomores</em>. But the formulas <em>killed</em> him, swam about the page like nothing <em>ever</em> had.</p><p>Billy was in AP Calculus B/C, the highest math class Hawkins High offered as a<em> junior</em>. </p><p>He swept into the private study room at the back of the library, Steve settled into one of the chairs already.</p><p>“Hey, Pretty Boy.” He kissed his head as he went past. Steve smiled at him. </p><p>“Hi, Bill.”</p><p>“How’s the math?”</p><p>“Fucking <em>awful</em>.” Billy took the sheet Steve was working on, grimacing at it.</p><p>“Yeah, Sweet Thing, these are, uh, these are <em>mostly</em> not correct.” Steve slammed his book shut, putting his head in his hands. </p><p>“I just can’t <em>do</em> this. I don’t know <em>why </em>this fucking chapter has been so <em>hard</em> for me.”</p><p>“It’s because you have like, nine formulas to memorize.” He got out a yellow notecard, writing out the formulas, the concepts for imaginary numbers, a few basic examples of factorials. They had found that the yellow paper was <em>easiest</em> for Steve to read on, Billy kept his handwriting crisp, <em>big</em>. </p><p>He slid it at Steve, between his elbows. He took his wrists, prying them away from his face, finding tears tracking down his face, his big eyes glassy.</p><p>“Hey, why the tears?” Steve just sniffed.</p><p>“Because I’m fucking <em>stupid</em>, Bill.” Billy used Steve’s hand to smack himself. Steve looked <em>affronted</em>.”What the <em>fuck</em>?”</p><p>“You know I don’t <em>like</em> it when you talk <em>bad</em> about yourself.” He made Steve smack himself again. “Be nice to yourself. Just because you’re <em>struggling</em> doesn’t mean you’re <em>stupid. </em>Because you’re <em>not</em>.” Steve was smiling lightly. “<em>So</em>, we’re gonna go through these problems <em>slowly</em>, and when shit gets <em>wiggly</em>, you <em>tell</em> me and we’ll give it a second.” Steve sighed, pulling the card closer, reopening the textbook.</p><p>“So, honestly I’ve been lost for like, a <em>month</em>.” Billy looked scandalized.</p><p>“Why didn’t you <em>talk</em> to me? You know I’m<em> always </em>happy to help you, Baby.” He stroked a hand through Steve’s hair, Steve dropping eye contact, his cheeks heating up.</p><p>“It’s just, it’s <em>embarrassing</em>. You’re so <em>smart</em>, Bill, and I’m, I’m <em>not</em>.”</p><p>“You’re <em>plenty </em>smart, Mac n’ Steve. Being good at school doesn’t mean you;re <em>smart</em> or not.” Steve gave him a Look.</p><p>“Whatever, let’s just work on this.” Steve huffed.</p><p>They spent forty five minutes working on Steve’s math, Billy flitting in between helping Steve and his <em>own</em> homework, flying through assignments like <em>crazy</em> while Steve had gotten steadily though <em>four</em> problems.</p><p>An hour and Billy was finished with his <em>own</em> math, his lab write up for the AP Chem section he was in with Nancy, and had finished half his assigned reading of <em>Moby Dick</em>, the densest book Steve has <em>ever</em> seen.</p><p>And Steve, Steve had done four and a <em>half</em> problems.</p><p>He slammed the book shut again, tears once again in his eyes.</p><p>“I’m <em>done</em> Billy. I’m <em>over it</em>.” Billy was back to him, cupping his face in his hands.</p><p>“<em>Hey</em>, I know it’s <em>frustrating</em> but-”</p><p>“No! No, Billy. You <em>don’t</em> know. You have no <em>idea</em> how frustrating it is to sit here, <em>barely </em>getting through my work while my fucking <em>genius boyfriend</em> just finished <em>all</em> his homework for the next <em>week</em>.”</p><p>Billy didn’t know what to <em>say</em>. There wasn’t much he<em> could</em> say to Steve when he got like this.</p><p>It wasn’t as though Billy was <em>trying</em> to make him feel bad, this school shit just came real <em>natural</em> to him. But he guesses that’s probably the <em>issue</em>, that he didn’t have to <em>work</em>.</p><p>He just grabbed Steve, pulled him until he slumped into his chest, taking a few shaking breaths. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry so it’s hard for you, Baby.” Steve just whined, melted into Billy’s chest more. </p><p>“I have a <em>headache</em>, Bill.” He was getting <em>pouty</em>, which was always a <em>good sign</em> with Steve, when he got all <em>cute</em>, knew it made Billy <em>weak</em>. Billy kissed the top of his head, rubbing the spot above his ear, the spot Steve always complained about.</p><p>“You wanna go home? We can have a little <em>fun</em> before we keep truckin’ with your math.” Steve wiggled a little, shuffling to look up at Billy.</p><p>“Depends on <em>what</em> kinda fun you mean.” Billy smirked, Steve’s eyes <em>bright</em>. </p><p>“You <em>know</em> what kinda fun I mean, Pretty Boy.”</p>
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<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Anon: Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anonymous  asked:</p><p>Hey could you do one where Steve is completely falling apart over the whole Upside Down thing and he has like a fwb thing with Billy and Billy is never usually affectionate or anything but he catches Steve having like a nightmare or a breakdown or something and he comforts him?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve and Billy started fucking the night the gate closed. </p><p>Of course, Billy didn’t <em>know </em>that had happened. All <em>he</em> knew was that he showed up at that freaky house and Steve had said <em>look man, I’ll do </em>anything<em> to get you to get back in that car, and go the fuck home Hargrove</em> and Billy had smirked and said <em>I’ll be waiting, Pretty Boy</em>, and he got in his car, and went the fuck home, while Steve led the kids through certain death and <em>somehow</em> came out the other side.</p><p>When Steve got home, <em>itching</em> for a shower, Billy was dozing in the front seat of his car. He rolled his eyes, banging on the top to wake him up.</p><p>Billy followed him inside, not asking about the soot and goop on his clothes, the dead look in his eyes as Billy pounded him into the mattress. </p><p>It became a <em>thing</em>, Billy coming over to Steve’s, fucking him silly, and then getting dressed silently, slipping out the door, leaving Steve with his nightmares.</p><p>It’s always worse on the nights Billy has been there, giving Steve a reprieve from the horror of his life, letting him feel <em>good</em>, <em>wanted</em>, <em>comforted</em>, but then he’s brought back into reality, soothing <em>himself</em> through the nightmares as best as he can.</p><p>Until one night, Billy flops off of him and just, lays there.</p><p>Steve doesn’t really know what to do with himself, sits against the headboard as Billy falls <em>asleep</em>.</p><p> </p><p>When Billy starts spending the night, he starts to notice something, <em>odd</em>. </p><p>He’s never seen Steve <em>sleep</em>.</p><p>Billy always falls asleep first, tired after doing <em>all</em> the fuckin’ <em>work</em> for this <em>pillow princess</em>. But if he startled at night, blinked himself awake before dawn, Steve would always be <em>awake</em>, sitting at an odd angle against the headboard, eating dry cereal in the kitchen, smoking out on the front porch, <em>never the back</em>. </p><p>Billy just wants him to <em>sleep</em>. He always looks like <em>shit</em> at school dark circles under his eyes, dozing off in class. </p><p>Billy wants to see the <em>way</em> he sleeps, if he talks, kicks out, snuffles, does other <em>cute</em> shit.</p><p>He’s been gone on Harrington since he first laid eyes on the soft bastard in the halls of Hawkins High, giggling at Nancy, giving her those big <em>eyes</em> Billy lov-<em>liked</em> so much.</p><p>So he started sleeping over. Not <em>cuddling</em> or anything, but after cumming all over Steve’s ass, he’ll roll over and plant himself next to Steve who would smile at him softly, and trot of to the bathroom to clean himself up.</p><p>The penny dropped on a cool March night. Billy had brought out some new tricks, had made Steve <em>ride</em> him all night, and Steve was coming off of <em>two nights</em> of no sleep, so when he slumped on top of Billy, he fell <em>asleep</em> right there, right <em>on </em>Billy. </p><p>Billy was in <em>Heaven</em>. Steve was <em>cooing </em>in his sleep, making all these soft little <em>noises</em>. Billy was drinking them all in, noticed when they began to <em>sour</em>, when the happy sounds turned into <em>whimpers</em>.</p><p>Panicked groans gave way into <em>screams</em>. Steve was <em>writhing</em>, thrashing about, shouting <em>no, no, NO. </em>Telling someone to <em>get behind me!</em> Hands grasping out for <em>something</em>.</p><p>Billy was at a <em>loss</em>. The first time Steve falls asleep with him he has what appears to be a horrible fucking <em>nightmare</em>.</p><p>He shakes Steve’s shoulder, moves him aggressively, shouts <em>Harrington</em> at him.</p><p>That’s apparently the <em>wrong move</em>. </p><p>Steve lashes out, Billy barely dodging the blow, rolling on top of Steve, pinning his arms down.</p><p>“Harrington! You’re having a nightmare!” Steve’s eyes flew open, looking around the room, eyes <em>panicked</em>. He met Billy’s eyes, and whimpered, immediately starting <em>sobbing</em>.</p><p>“I’m, I’m <em>sorry</em>. I didn’t, I usually <em>don’t</em> sleep when you’re, when you’re here. I didn’t want you to <em>know</em>.” Billy rolled off of him, pulling Steve in <em>close</em>, put Steve’s head in his neck, shushed him gently, rubbing his hands softly down Steve’s back.</p><p>It took Steve a <em>long time</em> to calm down, for the tears to stop flowing, the whimpers to <em>stop</em>.</p><p>“That happen often?” He felt Steve nod against his chest.</p><p>“Most, most nights.” Billy just kissed the top of his head.</p><p>“Pretty Boy, what the <em>fuck</em>? You have nightmares like <em>that</em> most nights?”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s, it’s not a big <em>deal</em>-”</p><p>“Yes, it <em>is</em> a big deal. That’s not <em>good</em> for you. Have you <em>always</em> had nightmares?”</p><p>“No they, they started last year. When Barb, when Barb drowned.”</p><p>“Wait, I thought she dies in like a <em>chemical leak</em> or something.” Steve swallowed. </p><p>“Not, not <em>exactly</em>.” His head spun as he thought of a lie he could tell, a <em>convincing</em> one. “She got <em>exposed</em> to whatever it was but then she, I had a party, and she-I was inside, I was in here, and she <em>drowned </em>and I can’t even <em>look</em> at the pool anymore and-” he took a sharp breath, tears coming back into his eyes. “And the night, the night with all the kids, we got, we got attacked by a bunch of fucking <em>dogs</em>, and I had to, had to beat ‘em all with a fucking <em>bat</em>, and once, with Nancy and Jonathan, we all almost fucking <em>died </em>and they, I think they <em>would’ve</em> if I hadn’t, if the bat hadn’t been right <em>there</em>, and sometimes, I just, what if I was too <em>slow</em>, or too <em>scared</em>, or if, if-” He broke down again, Billy cooing softly in his ear, <em>I’m right here, Stevie, it’s okay, I’ve got you.</em></p><p>“You <em>weren’t</em> though. The kids are all <em>fine</em>, no dog bites, and you weren’t too <em>slow</em> or too <em>scared</em>, obviously because everyone is <em>fine</em>, and that girl drowning, that, that wasn’t your <em>fault</em>. She probably like, passed out due to the chemicals and then fell into the pool or something it was <em>not</em> your fault.”</p><p>Steve was <em>shaking</em> against him. This was so <em>new</em> to Billy. Was use to Steve being <em>bratty</em>, being <em>cocky </em>and egging him on until he held him down. He was <em>not</em> ready to see this <em>vulnerable</em> side, this protector who was, a <em>mess</em>.</p><p>“Have you ever <em>talked</em> to anyone about this?”</p><p>“Fucking <em>who</em>, Billy? Who can I tell? Because, i had to sign those fucking NDAs, and, and the <em>kids</em> can’t know I’m like this and Nancy and Jonathan, they have each other, and I have, I have <em>no one</em>. No one gives a <em>fuck</em> about me. My own <em>parents</em> barely even acknowledge I <em>exist</em>, and only then it’s just when my dad calls to tell me that I’m a failure, an <em>embarrassment</em>, and to get a <em>job</em> because I can’t work for <em>him</em> because I’m not going to college, <em>can’t</em> go to college, with my shitty <em>grades</em> and no good <em>brain</em>.”</p><p>It was <em>a lot</em> for Billy. Steve was <em>babbling</em>. Every little <em>thing</em> that was stressing him out, it was pouring outta his mouth, <em>right</em> onto billy’s chest.</p><p>“Pretty Boy, that’s not <em>true</em>. Maybe, maybe you <em>can’t</em> talk to the kids, I mean, they’re <em>kids</em>, but that doesn’t mean they don’t <em>care </em>about you. <em>Lots</em> of people care about you, lots of people <em>love</em> you, I mean, I, I love you.”</p><p>It was <em>silent</em>. </p><p>Billy barely <em>breathed</em> as Steve brought his head up, tear-stained face staring at him in the moonlight.</p><p>“You, you <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“I <em>love</em> you.” Steve’s face split into a grin, a tearful beautiful <em>brilliant</em> grin.</p><p>“Thank <em>God</em>. I, I thought I was the only <em>one</em>.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I <em>mean</em>, I love <em>you</em>, Bill and I was, I thought you only wanted <em>sex</em>, so I was trying, trying <em>not to</em>.” Billy barked a wild laugh.</p><p>“I was goin’ the exact same <em>shit</em>, Stevie. You mean to tell me we could’ve been <em>in love</em> this whole time?”</p><p>When Steve laughed it was watery, but it was also <em>joyful</em>. It made Billy’s heart <em>soar</em>.</p><p>“Maybe I’m not the <em>only</em> mess here.” Billy just took his face, pulled him close enough to kiss him, to lick into his mouth, to smile and laugh against each other and to let themselves be <em>happy</em>, be <em>in love</em> like a coupla messes.</p>
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<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Anon: Billy's House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anonymous  asked:</p><p>You got some billy lives and gets a house from the government and money so he’s bored and alone in a big house with nothing to do so Steve hangs out with him and helps him heal and they love</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Billy was resurrected by the same government that accidentally killed him, they gave him a <em>lot</em> of money. </p><p>Billy affectionately called it his <em>Please Shut the Fuck Up</em> money.</p><p>It was more money than he’d ever <em>thought</em> of.</p><p>He had been in the hospital recovering for <em>months</em>, wasn’t allowed to have any visitors, just watched a lot of television and did physical therapy. </p><p>When he got out, it was late December, just past Christmas. He was escorted from the hospital by the sweet nurse who had tended to him daily. He hugged her goodbye, kissing her cheek and wishing her luck with her bratty six-year-old.</p><p>He turned, expecting his Dad sitting in his truck, Susan waiting by her car, only to be met with <em>Steve Harrington</em> standing in front of his big BMW. </p><p>“The fuck are <em>you </em>doing here?” Steve gave him the ghost of a smile, his hands fidgeting.</p><p>Before all the shit went down in July, they had been something like <em>acquaintances</em>, meeting at the quarry a few times to get high, hang out a little. That was <em>before</em> Billy got possessed, tried to kill him <em>and</em> his kids.</p><p>“I’m here to take you home.”</p><p>“Thought my dad or Susan would be coming.” Steve swallowed.</p><p>“Did they, did they not <em>tell </em>you?”</p><p>“Tell me what?” Steve wasn’t very comfortable holding eye contact, but he was currently <em>actively</em> avoiding Billy’s gaze.</p><p>“Your dad, he um, he was one of the victims.” Billy felt <em>numb</em>. </p><p>“You mean-?”</p><p>“He was one of the, uh, the <em>flayed</em>. One of the ones that <em>melted</em>. Apparently that thing got him at the, at the end.”</p><p>“You mean, I killed my fucking <em>father</em>?” Steve looked at him sharply.</p><p>“<em>No</em>. I <em>don’t </em>mean that. <em>You</em> didn’t do <em>anything</em>. <em>You</em> got in a car accident and got <em>possessed</em>. That <em>thing</em> used your body to do that stuff.” Billy was taken aback by Steve, how <em>fiercely</em> he delivered that.</p><p>“And, Susan? <em>Max</em>?”</p><p>“Both fine. Like I said, your dad was one of the last ones to get got. He didn’t take them.”</p><p>“So, why couldn’t Susan-”</p><p>“You, uh, you don’t <em>live</em> with them anymore.” Billy stared.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“Well, the government, the government <em>bought</em> you a house in, uh, in <em>my</em> neighborhood.” Steve lived in a multi-million dollar home, if Billy lived in <em>Loch Nora</em> now, the fucking government must’ve <em>shelled out</em>. </p><p>“Why can’t I, why can’t I still live with them?” He and Max’s relationship had been getting <em>better</em>. He’s sure with his dad out of the picture now, it would only <em>grow</em>.</p><p>“They don’t want you living with Susan since she doesn’t know what <em>happened</em>.”</p><p>“Don’t want me slipping and telling her I guess.” Steve just nodded, an awkward smile on his face.</p><p>“Look, man, can we, like, <em>go</em>? I’m freezing my nuts off.” Billy hadn’t even <em>felt</em> the cold through the nice thick coat he had received from the <em>Please Shut the Fuck Up</em> people.</p><p>“Yeah, Pretty Boy. Let’s split.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy’s new house was <em>huge</em>. </p><p>It wasn’t quite as large as Steve’s, four houses down the street, but it was still <em>much</em> more space than what one teenager who still wasn’t quite steady on stairs needed. He spent most of his days drifting around the place, talking to Max on the phone from where she was visiting her dad in California, the long-distance bill being charged to his <em>ridiculous</em> bank account. </p><p>The fourth day was when Steve showed up, a bottle of vodka in hand, a stack of movies under one arm.</p><p>“Hey, man. I didn’t know what you’d be into, so I brought a little bit of <em>everything</em>.” He had Robin pick out a few for him, so he actually didn’t <em>know</em> what he had brought.</p><p>They made popcorn, Billy looked <em>disgusted</em> as Steve mixed the vodka with coffee and melted vanilla ice cream but ended up drinking about six cups of it.</p><p>They spent the night giggling at the high-brow films Robin had selected, drunk and silly.</p><p>Steve started coming over every day, was always just <em>around</em>. He and Billy would get drunk, would laugh and joke and get introspective and talk to one another about the Upside Down, about possession and torture and shitty dads. About shaking hands and nightmares and sex with other men.</p><p>Steve held Billy when the monsters were too much, when he felt like a bad person, when he felt like a <em>killer</em>. He would kiss his head and tell him that he’s <em>good</em>, and make him a milkshake. </p><p>He would rub vitamin E oil on his scars, would help him with his physical therapy, would help him stretch his hands, his arms. </p><p>He would help whenever Billy’s therapist would suggest something, would sit with him while he journaled, took up painting when Billy did, would bring him potted plants, buy him yarn when knitting came next. </p><p>Billy knew from the <em>first</em> second he laid eyes on Steve Harrington he wanted him, but these past few months, of being <em>close</em> to Steve in this way, being emotional and <em>vulnerable</em> with him just solidified how in <em>love</em> with Steve he is, has <em>always been</em>. </p><p>The two were inseparable. Billy would hang out at Family Video, distract Steve from his work while Steve distracted Billy with his giggles.</p><p>It was the week before Valentine’s day, Steve was drunk, laying on the floor. Billy’s room was like his parents’, a <em>huge</em> fireplace in one corner.  Billy had taken to <em>chopping</em> wood, so Steve had taken to <em>watching</em> that happen. Steve was rolling on the hearth-rug, some gaudy fluffy thing that had come with the house. </p><p>Billy was next to him, both of them in Billy’s worn t-shirts, Steve had opted to borrow a pair of shorts too, so Billy had given him the <em>smallest</em> ones he owned. Billy was in sweats, just watching as Steve giggled to himself.</p><p>He looked so <em>soft</em>, the firelight making him glow, his pale skin bathed in orange light. His eyes looked <em>golden</em> and Billy was in <em>love</em>.</p><p>He was kissing Steve before he even <em>realized</em> what he was doing. They were warm in front of the fire, Billy’s hands cupping Steve’s face.</p><p>His eyes flew open and he pulled away, Steve looking at him with his brows furrowed.</p><p>“I’m, Steve I’m sorry.” He moved to try to get up, Steve grabbing him gently by the elbow.</p><p>“No, Bill it’s, don’t go.” His eyes were <em>huge</em> in the flickering light, his hands soft on Billy’s eyes as he sat up, taking Billy’s jaw between his palms. “I, Bill I’ve wanted you to do that for a <em>year</em>.”</p><p>Billy gasped, leaning in for another kiss, sealing their mouths together.</p><p>“Pretty Boy, I’ve been in love with you since I first <em>saw</em> you.” Steve was smiling so brightly when he pulled back, cheeks squishing up, making his eyes crinkle.</p><p>“Then <em>prove</em> it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And then they have tender sex by the fire.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Anon: Dad Hopper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anonymous  asked:</p><p>Hi! Could you please write about Billy having PTSD/issues with panic at school like having a PTSD episode in class or basketball and Steve helping him get somewhere private and helping him calm him down and having dad Hopper pick him up?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Hawkins police force was surprisingly, well, <em>good</em>.</p><p>For small town cops who mainly sat around snarking and smoking, they caught on to the violence in the Hargrove-Mayfield home <em>fast</em>.</p><p>Billy was in town no longer than a <em>month</em> before his dad was being placed into custody. He supposed it <em>may</em> have had something to do with a little redhead spitfire and a police chief who spent a few nights a year fighting monsters with the best of ‘em.</p><p>But nevertheless, it took a few home visits and one instance of Claudia Henderson witnessing Neil slap Billy in the parking lot behind the gas station for Neil to get <em>arrested</em>.</p><p>The rub was, Billy was still a minor, and Hopper didn’t really know if Susan could <em>handle</em> this boy, this 5′10″ ball of muscle and <em>rage</em>. </p><p>So he took the kid in. </p><p>He had <em>experience</em> in angry kids who were abused their wholes lives, who knew nothing but <em>hurt</em>. So he cleaned out the spare room in the cabin, helped Billy move his few duffle bags in there, his weight racks, his two boxes, just barely unpacked only for him to be moved <em>again</em>.</p><p>The first few days, Billy was <em>quiet</em>.</p><p>Didn’t really talk to him or El, mostly kept to his room. Not that Hopper didn’t <em>try</em>, it was difficult. El was easy to coax out, with the promise of some Eggos, she’d be wide-eyed and in the kitchen, nearly plastering herself to Hopper’s back as she followed him around, the hungriest little shadow.</p><p>Billy would smile tightly at Hop, obviously not <em>trusting</em> his huge stature. </p><p>When Billy had moved in, he and El had a <em>talk</em>. They were both going to try their best not to yell, to make loud noises, sudden moves. Hop had seen Billy flinch at cabinet doors being shut too hard, a beer can being crushed. Hop tried his <em>best</em> not to touch the kid without warning after <em>one</em> such incident when he reached out to clap him on the shoulder. Billy had squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving, braced for a <em>blow</em>.</p><p>El infiltrated before he did.</p><p>She asked Billy to help her with her reading. Noticed Billy was always flying through new library books, could demolish books in one sitting. He helped her with word definitions, vocabulary. Hop even came home one night to hear Billy in El’s room, reading to her softly.</p><p>Billy became <em>fiercely</em> protective of El very quickly after that. He had asked Hopper about her past, heard about her <em>coming</em> from the lab in general terms from Harrington, but Hop was candid, told him about the abuse, solitary confinement, the <em>forced</em> <em>killing</em>. Billy hardly left her side after that.</p><p>That’s <em>another</em> thing that came with Billy; the Harrington brat.</p><p>Apparently, at some point in the tunnels, the two had set aside their differences, had become <em>friends</em> even, good enough friends for Hop to come home to find the Harrington brat on his couch, braiding El’s hair, laughing at the television. </p><p>Turned out he wasn’t much of a <em>brat</em> as he once had been. Hop figured a brush with The Upside Down could straighten out even the <em>shittiest</em> kid, the kid that would mouth off to Hopper when he found him and his friends doing illegal shit at the quarry, throwing parties and getting into fights. </p><p>He now would just kinda, be there. He and Billy would talk quietly to one another, Hop once overheard actual <em>giggles</em> coming from behind Billy’s closed door one night.</p><p>And then El decided she liked him <em>too</em>, so it was a done deal.</p><p>Hop wasn’t sold on Harrington until December. </p><p>Neil’s trial was coming down the pipeline. He had been in custody for some minor charges, but the trial was for the long-term abuse he had been doling out to Billy. </p><p>So Billy had to testify. And Billy was a <em>wreck</em> about it.</p><p>Hop noticed him drawing into himself as the date came closer and closer. He would lash out sometimes too. <em>Never</em> at him or El or Harrington, but sometimes he would be doing homework and get tripped up a little and <em>throw</em> the textbook, swearing up a storm. He would listen to louder and louder music, would lift weights and <em>chain smoke</em> like nobody Hopper had ever <em>seen</em>.</p><p>The most explanation he got was when he heard Billy in his room with Harrington, talking softly through the door about the trial. He heard Harrington tell Billy he was <em>proud</em> of him for standing up, that he was <em>strong</em>. Hop smiled, and agreed with Harrington silently, moving on to plant himself on the couch for a while, the television loud enough he couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation (or when it dissolved into breathy moans).</p><p>But Harrington <em>proved </em>himself to Hop the next Wednesday.</p><p>It was only three days to the trial. Billy was shaky at <em>best</em>. Steve had been over most nights, had been talking him through his testimonials, practicing with him. When it would be <em>too much</em> for Billy he would coo praise into his hair before <em>distracting him</em> nicely.</p><p>But Billy was sitting in class, in his AP Chem lab to be exact, when someone dropped their textbook. The big monster made a <em>loud</em> smacking thud on the tile floor and billy was <em>off</em>. </p><p>His breathing was shallow, coming in too rapidly to fill his lungs. He fled the class, ignoring the teacher shouting his name as he all but <em>ran</em>. </p><p>He was so <em>lucky</em> to find Steve wandering the halls, swinging the hall pass on his finger as he avoided his English class. He grinned when he saw Billy, the smile giving way to concern when he noticed Billy’s wide eyes, the way his hands <em>shook</em>.</p><p>He pulled Billy into the library, shutting the blinds on the study room, the one they designated as <em>theirs</em> after a few too many panic attacks.</p><p>Steve could smell a <em>bad one</em> a mile away. He got Billy sitting, planted himself on the table in front of him, <em>careful</em> not to touch, and just, <em>talked</em>.</p><p>Billy had told him once that he liked it when Steve just made <em>noise</em>. It gave him something to focus on. Steve would keep his voice soft, delicate, and just rambled on, explaining the plot of some movie Billy didn’t care about in <em>extreme</em> detail. Billy was able to just focus on the sound of his voice, was able to focus on the overwhelming safety he felt when he thought <em>Steve</em>.</p><p>It took Steve until the end of the period to get Billy calm enough to head out, collecting Billy’s things from the lab, explaining to the teacher with his most <em>charming</em> smile that billy had fallen ill, a terrible flu causing him to run out and spew in the nearest restroom.</p><p>He checked back in with Billy before asking the sweet librarian if he could use the phone, gave <em>her</em> his big eyes and most <em>I am the sweetest boy in the whole world</em> smile he could muster.</p><p>He asked for Hopper when the tired secretary picked up with <em>Hawkins Police, how may I direct your call?</em></p><p>Hopper sounded gruff on the phone, chided him for skipping class when Steve said <em>hey Chief, it’s Steve. </em>But he went silent at the mention of Billy’s name. When <em>panic attack </em>and <em>bad one</em> and <em>library</em> cut through, Hop was off the phone and in his truck, sirens on, speeding towards <em>his kid</em>. </p><p>He didn’t bother stopping at the office. He was Chief of fucking Police, he didn’t need to <em>check-in</em> or whatever. He found the library quickly, explaining to the woman at the circuit desk that his kid’s friend had called him, that his <em>son</em> was sick.</p><p>He checked every study room, opening the doors slowly after a few soft taps, knew sometimes Billy got tense when the doors <em>flew</em> open. </p><p>He found them in the last one, the shades on the window drawn. Harrington was perched on the table, talking softly to Billy, stroking through his hair.</p><p>Billy was sitting in a chair, his face planted onto Harrington’s leg as he <em>shook</em>. Harrington smiled a little at Hop, just kept talking, kept running his fingers through the curly hair.</p><p>“Hey, Kid. I’m gonna check you out for the week. When you’re ready, we can go home.” He hesitated when he moved to put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. Harrington took his wrist, moved Hop’s hand up, gently set his on Billy’s head, replacing where his had been skirting through Billy’s hair.</p><p>Hop just set it there gently for a second, giving Steve a thankful smile before pulling back, checking both boys out of school for the week. Figured if Billy was gonna sit tense at home, it may be easier for him if his best friend was there, his best friend that <em>obviously</em> knew <em>exactly</em> what Billy needed in his moments. </p><p>So he took them both back to the cabin, let Steve get Billy set up on the couch under a few blankets, sat with them on the armchair through a few episodes of some cartoon none of them were paying much attention to, El sitting on the floor, leaned against Billy’s legs.</p><p>Steve hadn’t stopped touching Billy once since Hop had seen them. He was holding Billy’s hand now, his thumb gently rubbing Billy’s skin. </p><p>They ate dinner together, Steve chattering away like he did, although he looked a little harder now. What he once thought was a nervous tick on Harrington’s part, was obviously <em>helpful</em> for Billy who would throw Steve looks through his lashes, would stare at him like he hung the stars in the fucking <em>sky</em>. </p><p>That was the first moment he realized why the kids called Steve their mom, he took <em>care</em> of people, had been taking care of Billy <em>right</em> under Hop’s nose. </p><p>He cornered Steve after Billy went to bed. Offered him a smoke on the porch.</p><p>“Kid, tell me about Billy. How do you <em>help him</em> like you do? He doesn’t <em>trust </em>me, which I understand, but if he continues <em>not</em>, then I can’t do shit for him.”</p><p>“I mean,  he <em>does</em> trust you. He just hasn’t figured you <em>out</em> yet. With his dad, he knew he was angry just from the way he would <em>breathe</em>. He doesn’t quite know what you’re about, if you’re gonna be mad at him for the same shit his dad always was. If he breaks a glass, are you gonna slap him or make sure he didn’t hurt himself? He’s <em>weary</em>. Doesn’t wanna test your limits.”</p><p>“But, he <em>knows</em> I wouldn’t <em>hit him</em>, right?”</p><p>“He doesn’t <em>know</em> that. The only father he’s ever had slapped him around his <em>whole life</em>, Chief. Now he has you, and you may not have given him a <em>reason</em> to be freaked, but he’s defensive, <em>careful</em>. Doesn’t wanna give <em>you</em> a reason.” He took a drag, making a face at the cigarette. Hop smoked <em>strong</em> stuff, the menthols Steve kept behind his ear were mainly just for <em>show</em>. </p><p>“But, if he’s, you know, like he <em>was</em>, how do I <em>help</em>.”</p><p>“He likes noise. The first time he had one in front of me, I started nervously talking and doing the dishes and he called it my <em>benign chatter</em> or something. He said he just focuses on the <em>sound</em> of <em>me</em> and because the noise is connected to someone that’s, <em>safe</em>, he <em>feels</em> safe.”</p><p>“But, if he doesn’t feel safe with me, how does that work?”</p><p>“He feels good with El, maybe she could practice reading aloud to him, or something until he’s there with you.”</p><p>“Okay, that could work.”</p><p>“And you <em>can’t</em> touch him until he’s ready. He’ll <em>freak</em> if you lay a hand on him. I was sitting there for a long time, but once he put his head on me, that means he <em>wants</em> touch, just soft. He likes his hair being touched a lot.” Hop huffed a bit of a laugh.</p><p>“He’s like a scared cat. <em>Exactly</em> like a scared cat.” Steve laughed too.</p><p>“It took me a while to figure this shit out, Chief. You’ll get there. He just doesn’t know where he stands a lot of the time. Kinda sees the worst in people. Makes sense, though.” He stamped out the barely smoked cigarette.</p><p>“You’re a good kid. Kinda had it out for ya for a while there. But I’m glad he’s got a friend like you.” Steve’s smile was really, <em>odd</em>. He wouldn’t look Hop in the eye, but then again, the kid could <em>never</em> hold eye contact for long. Hop kinda got the feeling Billy wasn’t the only one with some father issues.</p><p>“Uh, thanks, Chief. I should, uh, I should get home I guess. I’ll tell Bill I’m going.”</p><p>Hop stayed on the porch, mulling over what Steve had said.</p><p>Steve headed inside, kissed Billy goodnight and promised to be over tomorrow, pulled on one of Billy’s jackets and leaned over, muttering at him <em>you’re safe here, Bill</em> before giving him one more kiss.</p><p>Hop came home early the next few days, always walking in to find Billy and Steve pressed against one another on the couch, El usually pressed to Billy’s other side while they all watched t.v.</p><p>Steve waited outside the courthouse during the trial, hugged Billy <em>tight</em> when he came racing out, whooping and yelling <em>the bastard’s goin’ to the slammer, Pretty Boy!</em></p><p>They all ate ice cream for dinner, the rest of the brats celebrating along with Max. Billy even <em>hugged</em> Hopper, briefly and with one arm, and went right back to Steve’s side after, but it was a start, and Hopper <em>liked</em> where this was leading.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Request: Dad Hopper Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>klngsandsaints  asked:</p><p>Heyheyhey I just read your thing about Billy being adopted by Hopper and having a panic attack. It was- uuhmazing ?? tysm for writing that gorgeous piece !! I was just wondering how Hop eventually finds out about Billy and Steve being a *thing* thanks again!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hop wasn’t as blind as everyone apparently figured.</p><p>He noticed how Steve stayed over almost every night. The way he and Billy would look at each other, the way they were always <em>touching</em>. </p><p>That and, well the walls in the cabin were <em>thin</em>. Hop had <em>heard</em> some stuff, some <em>late at night</em> stuff. He knew <em>way </em>more about Steve Harrington’s <em>asshole</em>, then he <em>ever</em> needed to.</p><p>He was kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place though. He wanted to talk to Billy, let him know he didn’t <em>care</em>, that he could <em>see</em> how happy Steve made him, that that was all he cared about anyway. But at the same time, he didn’t want to back him into a corner, make him panic. </p><p>He started making little comments, wanted Billy to feel <em>supported</em>. Went off while watching the ten o'clock news, complaining about <em>Reagan isn’t doing SHIT about AIDS, letting good people DIE</em>, started talking about his second cousin in San Fransisco, how he’s lived with the same man for fifteen years. Would <em>loudly</em> explain to El that people were hateful towards gay people because they saw it as unnatural, but <em>there’s nothing unnatural about love, El</em>.</p><p>Billy would just give him odd looks, nodding slowly, eyebrows drawn. </p><p>He had gotten closer with Billy. Could tell the kid trusted him more and more. He really didn’t<em> mind</em> being with Steve, but he wanted to set some rules, some<em> boundaries</em>.</p><p>He finally cracked one evening.</p><p>Steve had been there for the whole <em>week</em>, and Hop was <em>tense</em>, thinking about one of his kids, doing, doing <em>stuff</em> under his roof.</p><p>El had <em>long</em> been sent to bed, Hopper had spent the last couple of <em>hours</em> turning the t.v. up louder and <em>louder</em> over the fucking <em>moans</em> coming from his son’s room. When they finally surfaced, Steve was wearing a fucking <em>Metallica</em> t-shirt like he had <em>ever</em> listened to Metallica.</p><p>“Can you two come sit down?”</p><p>They took the couch, sitting pressed against one another. Steve looked nervous, Billy had laughter in his eyes.</p><p>“So I wanted to, to have this <em>talk</em> with you both. I wanted to, set some <em>boundaries</em>.” He took a deep breath. “I know you two are together. And before you get <em>scared</em>, I don’t <em>care</em> that you’re, y’know <em>gay</em> or what have you, but I, this house has <em>rules</em>. And you two need to resp-<em>follow</em> them.” Billy was lounged back into the couch, one eyebrow raised at Hop. Steve was sitting ramrod straight, periodically wiping his sweaty palms on his legs until Billy reached out and took one of his hands.</p><p>“And what <em>are</em> these <em>rules</em>?”</p><p>“Same as El’s. When Steve is over, your door has to stay open at <em>least</em> three inches.” Billy huffed. “And he can’t be over more than two days in a row.”</p><p>“Wait, Mike is here <em>all the tim</em>-”</p><p>“And he goes <em>home</em> every night and doesn’t come over every three days.”</p><p>“Yeah but the brats can go on <em>dates</em> and shit. <em>We</em>” he gestured wildly between himself and Steve “<em>can’t</em> be together in public.”</p><p>“El <em>still</em> isn’t safe outside <em>period</em>. It’s not like <em>she’s</em> going on dates either. And that’s beside the point, Steve <em>never</em> goes home.”</p><p>“Yeah, because his parents are shitty!”</p><p>“Bill, it’s fine, it’s really-”</p><p>“No, you can stay here if you want.” He looked at Hop, a challenge in his eye. “Right? He can stay here.” Hopper took a few deep breaths. He’s been <em>really</em> working on keeping his anger in check, not giving Billy a reason to be scared, but sometimes he <em>pushed</em>.</p><p>“Steve, are you <em>safe </em>at home?”</p><p>“Yes! It’s not, they’re just kind of, bummers.”</p><p>“They’re not ‘kind of bummers’, Steve they-”</p><p>“But bottom line. kid, you’re safe at home, right?”</p><p>“Yes! I don’t mind going home, Chief it’s really, it’s okay.” Billy crossed his arms over his chest. </p><p>“What if <em>I</em> need him here. He <em>has</em> to be here in case I panic or something.” Hop scoffed.</p><p>“You’re <em>really</em> playing that card right now? <em>Seriously</em>?” Billy was smiling, smug as can be, nodding slowly at him. Hop turned to Steve.</p><p>“Billy’s grounded. You can’t come back for a week.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Billy looked <em>appalled</em>. “<em>Grounded</em>? Am I fucking <em>five</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, well you’re <em>acting</em> like it. No Steve for a <em>week</em>.” Billy stood up, storming to his room and slamming the door. After a second he opened it, stomping out to Steve, taking him by the face and kissing him <em>deeply</em>, looking defiantly at Hopper when he came back up, stomping into his room again.</p><p>Hopper was left sitting awkwardly with Steve.</p><p>“So a week?” His face was <em>bright red</em> as got up, fidgeting with his keys. “That’s, seems fair.” He gave Hop a two-finger salute as he hurried to the door. “Well, uh, goodnight.” He turned back to Hopper. “But if he, if he <em>does</em> panic, or, or something, just, <em>call me</em>.” He smiled again and left, Hop got up to watch him pull out of the spot in front of the cabin.</p><p>Billy stepped back out of his room, stomping like a child to pour himself a glass of juice. Hop had to hold back a <em>laugh</em> as he drank orange juice <em>angrily</em>. He looked like a <em>toddler</em>.</p><p>“Can’t believe you fuckin’ <em>grounded me</em>.” He put the glass in the sink. “<em>No Steve for a week</em> do you hate me?”</p><p>“You can go without your boyfriend for a <em>week</em>.”</p><p>“Well, I wouldn’t <em>know</em>, because I’ve never <em>had</em> to go without him.”</p><p>“And that’s not <em>healthy</em> kid. You two should have <em>breaks</em> from one another sometimes.”</p><p>“What if I don’t <em>want</em> a break? What if I <em>like</em> <em>it</em> when Steve’s around?”</p><p>“Because I’m sick of <em>hearing</em> you two through the <em>walls</em>.” Billy went still.</p><p>“You can, you can <em>hear</em> us?” A blush was creeping up his neck. “Like, <em>clearly</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Much</em> clearer than I wanted to hear you, kid.” Billy choked out a laugh.</p><p>“Oh <em>God</em>. I’m so <em>sorry</em>.” He was giggling, his checks red. “And that was Steve being <em>quiet</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>, he sounds like a damn <em>cat</em>.” Billy just kept laughing. It was kind of, <em>sweet</em>. </p><p>“God, I’m gonna have to call him.” He went off to his bedroom. </p><p>That night when Hopper went to bed, he could hear Billy laughing to Steve saying <em>my dad heard all your fucking NOISES, Stevie. He said you sound like a CAT. Apparently the walls are REAL thin.</em></p><p>Hopper just chuckled to himself, the a warm feeling settling in his gut at Billy saying <em>my dad</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Anon: Steve's Pool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anonymous  asked:</p><p>What about Billy being all sweet and gentle teaching Steve how to swim and how to be comfortable again in the water when the pool is empty?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Tumblr <a href="https://yikesharringrove.tumblr.com/">@yikesharringrove</a>!<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Billy a while to figure out Steve had a pool in his back yard.</p><p>Typically when he was at the Harrington’s big house, he was more focused on Steve, naked and spread out on the bed, <em>not</em> looking out the window at the tarp in the back yard.</p><p>It wasn’t until <em>summer</em> he noticed it.</p>
<p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr">
  <p>“Pretty Boy, you have a <em>pool</em>?” He was too focused out the window to notice the way Steve’s shoulders tensed, the way his jaw shifted.</p>
</div><p>“Yeah, I uh, I do.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me? You up for a little skinny dippin’, Baby?” He turned to Steve with a smirk, face falling when he saw Steve, his eyes wide, his hands shaking.</p><p>“I, I can’t, don’t-<em>we can’t go in</em>.” Billy went to him, his hands smoothing down his arms.</p><p>“Stevie, what’s happening? Talk to me.”</p><p>“I just, the Upside Down, opened in, underwater, the, the <em>monster</em> it-Barb died.” Billy was able to string it together, connected it to the way Steve would look out the window, dead look in his eye.</p><p>“Okay, we won’t, we won’t swim, Sweet Thing. Just <em>breathe</em>.” He turned them around, turned Steve’s back to the pool. “You’re okay. Won’t make you do <em>anything</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve was more calm around <em>other pools</em>. He would sometimes come by the community pool, would post up in a sun lounger and take naps, listening to the mixtapes Billy made him while he snoozed in the sun.</p><p>Billy would wake by periodically, would slap him on the chest and say <em>sunblock, Pretty Boy</em>, made sure it was disguised as teasing, but was really just worried about that pretty pale skin.</p><p>Still, Steve never got <em>in </em>the pool, barely even got within a foot of the water.</p><p>Billy found out from Tommy that Steve used to be captain of the swim team, used to break Indiana State <em>records</em> with how fast he was, used to be as much of a fuckin’ <em>fish</em> as Billy is. But then a monster clawed it’s way into their world from another and pulled a girl to hell <em>straight</em> through his pool and Steve avoided the water like the paranoid folks at the beaches after <em>Jaws</em> came out.</p><p>He would watch while Billy did laps after hours, would sit a ways back from the water, smile whenever Billy shot up for air. </p><p>“You ever miss it?” Billy asked him one night as they shared a few beers by the public pool, sitting together after dark.</p><p>“All the time. It’s not just that I was <em>good</em>. It was just, <em>fun</em>. After Barb, I tried to get back in. Had a panic attack in the water, nearly drowned.” He was picking at the tap on the can. “Just think that time of my life is well and truly <em>over</em>.”</p><p>Billy scoot his way to the edge of the pool, just dangled his feet in up to the ankle.</p><p>“If you wanted to, you know, <em>try</em>, I would help you. We could, we could start slow.” He patted the concrete next to him. “Just come and put a foot in with me.” Steve took a shaky breath, moved to sit next to Billy. He took his hand when he reached the edge, squeezed his eyes shut, and put one foot under the water. He wiggled his toes, keeping his breaths deep, slow. Billy tucked him under one arm, held him <em>close</em>.</p><p>“I’m proud of you, Pretty Boy. Baby steps are important.”</p><p>They began doing that every day, locking the doors and slowly easing Steve into the pool. It took him two weeks to put both legs in up to the knee. A month in he had stood on one of the steps, water lapping just below his waist.</p><p>Billy stayed <em>glued</em> to him every time, would coo in his ear how <em>brave</em> Steve was, that he was doing <em>amazing</em>, that Billy was <em>right there</em> that he <em>wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Stevie</em>. Neither of them mentioned Steve’s pool, the <em>root</em> of the panic forcing Steve out of the water.</p><p>By the time Steve was ready to get totally in the water, he and Billy had been doing this all summer, just under three months of slowly letting Steve adjust to being in the water.</p><p>“So, we’re going to walk down the steps, just like last time. We’re going to keep going, until we can’t touch anymore. Then we’re going under, just for a second. We’ll come <em>right</em> back up.” Billy was wrapped around Steve, standing close behind him in the ankle-deep water, talking softly in his ear. Steve’s hands were tight around Billy’s forearm, but he nodded.</p><p>They waded through the shallow water together, getting deeper and deeper. By the time Billy was on his <em>very</em> tippy toes, they stopped for a second.</p><p>“Okay. Do you want to go all the way?” Steve took a deep breath, and nodded. Billy turned him around, held him close. “One, two, three.”</p><p>They both took in some air, letting themselves drop into the water, fully submerging. Steve was <em>clinging</em> onto Billy like a lifeline, had wrapped his legs around his waist, arms tight around his shoulders. When they came up a second later, Billy walked backward, standing in the water just up to his chest.</p><p>Steve was breathing heavily, but he seemed <em>okay</em>. His eyes were big as he looked at Billy, letting go briefly to move Billy’s hair out of his eyes, his own wet and swept off his face.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, that was, that wasn’t so bad. I don’t, I don’t want to do it again, though. not <em>tonight</em> at least. But, I’m okay.” He smiled as Billy began gently waking them around, Steve still plastered to him like a koala.</p><p>“We don’t gotta. that was a <em>huge</em> step tonight. I’m <em>real</em> proud of you, Mac n’ Steve.”</p><p>“I couldn’t have done this without you, though, Bill.” He kissed Billy’s forehead, smiling at him as they drifted through the pool.</p>
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